Z0, Origins
by EagleRay
Summary: Introductory Story. Meet Zachary Neldeb: mild-mannered, 18-year old University Graduate and just recently homeless inhabitant of Earth in the year 2010. Things are about to get a little...interesting for him and his friends.
1. Zack's Story

**Title: The Zachary Chronicles – Origins**

**Rating:** Surprisingly, I think I'd rate this one T. Not much going on right now…

**Spoilers: **None yet, as I may have mentioned, starts as an original story, just to introduce my characters, and move them into that…other place.

**Disclaimer**: Okay, Starcraft belongs to Blizzard, not me. Although, I didn't REALLY need to mention that yet, but you know, just to get it out of the way.

**Edit(Oct 21, 2011): **Revised because ffnet doesn't support the formatting I used before for scene breaks.

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

Okay, so some of you might be wondering what the heck a story like this has to do with "Four Years Later". Well, if you're feeling adventurous, I'll say you just have to read and find out, but otherwise, this story might help to understand what happens when "Four Years" gets to its sequel. Just maybe.

For those of you not interested in "Four Years," this story can stand on its own. Either story could honestly. I just feel like the readers of "Four Years" might benefit from the whole back-story of the Original Characters to whom I'm about to introduce the lovely ladies.

So, let's get on with it!

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

**Origins:**

**Word**** - **Anna's speech

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

**Chapter**** I**

_Wednesday, May 21, 2008_

The boy stood before the plain green door. A small black and dark green nylon hiking bag was slung on his back, and a much larger black duffel bag lay at his feet. He looked from one end of the hallway to the other, simply in an attempt to delay having to knock.

Zachary Neldeb reached up with his left hand and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He hadn't been to this place in well over three years. Finally, he took a deep breath and raised his right hand to knock on the heavy green door, the three sharp taps echoing in the silence of the fourth floor corridor, lit only by the moon from the windows at each end of the carpeted hallway. It was almost eleven o'clock at night, but Zack wasn't worried about waking the occupant of apartment 406. If James had not changed his living habits in the past three years, he would likely be fully awake and glued to a television set.

A few seconds went by in silence as Zack looked around, waiting patiently for Jim to open his apartment door. Then there came the sound of footsteps, and the deadbolt being slid aside.

The door swung open, revealing a boy three years older than Zack. He wore a freshly cleaned red t-shirt, and a pair of black sweatpants, which displayed his extra weight very well. Over his shoulder, Zack could see that the TV was on, with a video game paused on the screen. Scattered across the coffee table, between the small green couch and the twenty-seven inch TV, were several video game cases, half of which were open, with their discs strewn across the glass surface of the square table. There were crumbs all over the run-of-the mill brown carpet, and even the couch.

Upon seeing Zack, James Neldeb threw his arms around the younger boy's shoulders and broke into a fit of overjoyed laughter. "Hey, Zack! It's been way too long."

"Yeah," Zack was taken aback by his brother's enthusiasm, but managed to hug him back. "Sorry I didn't call first."

Jim released Zack from the hug and took a second to mess up his hair before turning and returning to the couch. "Rule number one: no neat hairstyles. Other than that, forget about it, bro. It's cool that you just dropped in. It kinda gives the impression that you can be as scatterbrained as I am." He picked up the video game controller and returned to his game. It was a typical first-person action gore-fest, one that Zack had gotten used to in his experience with his brother. "So, where are mom and dad? Didn't feel I was worthy of their presence?"

After sliding his duffel into the apartment, Zack stepped through the door and closed it behind him before replying in a quiet voice. He lowered his head and shook it slowly, "they're probably back home by now." He sighed heavily.

Jim didn't look up from the TV screen, "What – they trust you to get back to Ottawa on your own?"

Zack hesitated, "actually, I don't think they expect me to go home at all."

That was enough to make Jim look up from his game, at which point his character was instantly killed. "What do you mean? You movin' out of their house?"

"No." Mentally, Zack cursed his brother for his selective intelligence. "We came down this way, apparently to visit you, but I turned my back on them for a moment to find that they'd disappeared, leaving behind only my luggage and this note." Zack fished a folded slip of notepaper out of his pants' pocket, handing it to Jim.

Curious, Jim took the note and read it aloud, "'don't come home'?" He handed it back to Zack, and turned back to the TV screen. After a moment, Jim commented casually, "you been hearin' voices again, Zack?" He paused long enough to mow down a computer opponent with his automatic rifle. "So, what do you plan to do?"

Zack thought about all the ideas he'd had in the four hours since finding his bags sitting on the side of the street, only a few blocks from Jim's apartment building. "At first, I thought I'd try to go home on my own, but that note's fairly clear. In the end, I decided to come here to ask for a place to stay."

Jim snorted. "What do you think I'm going to do – throw you out on the street?" He put the controller down and stood from the couch. "Of course you can stay here. Let me just set you up." He stood and walked down the short, wannabe hallway to the closet. "You can't stay in the spare room 'cuz Belinda's in there right now, but I've still got that cot I used when I first moved in, if you don't mind."

"Not at all." Zack took the sheets that Jim handed him from the depths of the closet, as well as a long, heavy canvas sack that clanked metallically when he shifted it on his shoulder. Jim pulled out a narrow cushion and closed the closet. "So, where do you want me to set up?"

Jim thought about it. "Well, I'll be up for a while longer, and then I'll be off to work, so why don't you take my room?" He pushed open the closed door right beside the closet. "You remember where the bathroom is?"

Zack nodded, "yeah. And I've got everything I need." He pointed his thumb back in the direction of the apartment's door. "Thanks a lot, Jim."

"Don't worry about it, Zack." Jim started back down the hall to the television, and his video game. "But don't think you can stay here for free, buddy. If you're here longer than a week, you'll have to start chipping in on the rent."

Zack smiled. "It's good enough to have a home, Jim."

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

The next day, Zack woke up around ten o'clock to find Jim lying in his bed, snoring noisily. _Hmm_, he thought. _He must have had a hard night's work. Where is it he works again? Is it still the same job?_

Zack pulled himself up out of the cot, and left the room, walking down the half-hall toward the kitchen. When he got there, he found out who Belinda was.

Seated at the table, eating from a large bowl of cereal, was a tall, lean, young Japanese woman. She looked to be about the same age as Jim, with a much greater…maturity about her than Zack's older brother. Her glossy black hair hung well past her shoulder blades, and her large, brown eyes were currently narrowed in concentration as she scanned the morning paper. Her skin was pale, though slightly coloured by her ancestry.

She looked up briefly when Zack came into sight, but then returned to her paper and her breakfast. "You must be Zack."

He walked over to the fridge and pulled it open, scanning its contents. "Good guess, Miss-?"

"You may call me Belinda." She finished up her bowl of cereal and cleared the table, depositing all the dishes in the sink. "If you will excuse me, I must leave for work. I will see you afterwards – maybe six o'clock tonight."

Zack grabbed a bowl from the cupboard, "cool. I'll see you later." He grabbed some cereal as Belinda left the apartment. As soon as she was gone, the brown-haired young man stepped over to where he'd left his bags last night and grabbed a change of clothes, walking into the bathroom for a shower.

Half-an-hour later, his hair long-dried and his belly full of cereal and juice, Zack dove into his black-and-green hiking bag again, pulling out his laptop bag. It was nothing elaborate or excessively business-like; simply a tough cloth satchel designed to protect the largish laptop it carried. When he had bought it, two months earlier, it had been a top-line model; no doubt that had changed by now, with the speed at which the computer world evolved. With close to eighty gigabytes of space on its hard drive, it was hard to believe that Zack had almost half filled all that memory, with only one program.

He had created it himself.

Powering up the laptop, Zack set himself up on the couch, with his computer in front of him, a fresh pad of paper beside him, and a pencil ready. "Okay program, time for a rematch."

As soon as Zack had logged on, a message box appeared.

**Good** **Morning,** **Zachary.**

He smiled and typed his own reply for the AI program. "Hello."

**Would** **you** **like** **to** **play** **a** **game?**

Zack sat back and thought about it. "Not yet," he typed. "Right now, I need to talk to you."

**Yes?**

"Mom and Dad took off on me on the way to Jim's" Zack waited for the program to reply. In reality, he was gauging whether it had evolved any closer to the goal he had set.

**I** **warned** **you** **that** **there** **was** **a** **strong possibility of that. It was greater than 60 percent. What do you plan to do now? I must assume you are in Jim's apartment.**

Zack nodded, all too aware that the program couldn't see it. "That's a fair guess." Zack considered the computer's reply. _You've learned much, but you still think too much like a machine._ "I'll be here for a while at least. I'll probably have to get a job, earn my keep at Jim's until I can think of something else to do."

**That is a logical course of action.**

Zack rolled his eyes. "Thank you for that assessment." He sat back again and cracked his knuckles. Sitting forward, he wiggled his fingers for a second before typing a message. "How about a rematch?"

**What game would you like to play?**

Zack thought about it, and then reached into his hiking bag for a CD case. He placed it in the disc drive without answering the program's question. Then, he simply sat back and waited for it to load.

After a moment, the program sensed what was going on. **Starcraft**** is now loading. This is the game with which I have the most proficiency. There is a minimal probability of victory in your favour.**

Zack snorted – then typed, "You won't beat me. I guarantee it."

The message box closed down, and the screen turned black.

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

Three hours later, Zack shut the game down and opened up his word processor. Working quickly, he opened his resume and scanned the document, making sure it was all up to date. He'd only had two long-term jobs in his entire career, but they were impressive nonetheless. He'd worked as a junior programmer at a small software company, working mostly in customer service. The other job had been as a grunt for a freelance construction union. Over his term of two years part-time, he had worked on thirteen different construction projects.

**what are you doing?**

Zack sighed exasperatedly. If there was one thing he regretted about expanding the gaming AI's programming and allowing it to inhabit the entire computer, it was that it was only now learning when Zack needed his privacy. It was able to control a limited number of functions, not the least of which being Zack's wireless network card. With its control over that piece of hardware, the AI was capable of connecting itself to any other computer that was logged onto the Internet. The connection wasn't active right now, since there were no networks in range, but the AI would no doubt activate it as soon as it was able to detect a local area network.

The AI had already infiltrated several hundred computers in its nine-year lifetime, concentrating mainly on computers that could help it achieve its primary objective: excelling at its primary function as a Gaming program. And, to do so, it had to expand its knowledge of tactics, both for strategy and action games.

**Zack?**

He cocked his head to one side at that. The program hadn't before used a single-word sentence to address him before, but it _had_ been using his name for a while. It had been at least two months since it had used any of those words – like Master, Creator, or Human – when speaking to him, even though Zack had given it no indication that he didn't want to be called _Master_;He really didn't want his program to treat him with so much reverence but had wanted to wait for it to catch on by itself. He had also decided to work to evolve it to a higher purpose.

Finally, he switched to the message box. "I'm working on my resume."

**Would you like some help?**

"No, that's all right." Zack returned to his work, and quickly finished it up.

In the background, the message box disappeared, closed down by the program, since it didn't have anything else to say. That was one of its many redeeming features: it was at least _beginning_ to learn when Zack needed some time to himself. And it would likely learn fairly quickly.

Only a few minutes later, however, the message box appeared again. **Zack? Can I ask you something?**

That got his attention. _What?_ He read the message through twice before he fully understood. This was a distinctly un-mechanical question, a phrase that only people used regularly, even though it was a completely paradoxical question. By simply asking if he could ask someone a question, a person will already have forced a choice upon whomever they were asking by asking a question. This was a very unusual development in the AI's behaviour, one which had been gradually becoming more frequent in the past few months, now that Zack thought about it.

Finally, Zack leaned forward and typed a reply into the message box. "Go ahead."

There was a long pause before the reply appeared – more evidence that the AI was growing more aware of itself. Computers were not known to be hesitant. **May I have a name?**

Zack had thought he had been prepared for anything that the AI would throw at him.

Obviously, he had been wrong.

_What is this?_ Zack sat back from his laptop to think about the program's question. _It wants a name? This is strange, but not unexpected. I figured it would ask for a name eventually, but I didn't expect it to happen so soon. _He stared at the LCD screen of the laptop, turning this new development over in his mind. At last, he leaned forward again and placed his hands on the keyboard. "I don't see why not," he typed, "but I have one condition."

The program's reply came instantaneously, **And what might that be?**

Zack smiled grimly. "You have to choose it yourself."

**That is not a problem. This is a question I have been considering for quite some time. In fact, I have already chosen a name; I was simply waiting for your permission.**

This surprised Zack, but not to the point where he was incapable of replying. "So, what do I call you?"

**Call me Anna.**

Zack thought about it. "It sounds perfect, Anna. What does it mean?"

**You should know; you are the one with the photographic memory. It means, "gracious"**

The boy smiled, "and I also have the telepathy. But why did you choose, 'Anna'?"

**Unknown. I was simply searching through an archive of baby names the last time I was connected to a wireless network, and that name stood out from the rest. And as to your "Telepathy", that is only a theory of yours, and a baseless one at that.**

Zack laughed. "Why else would the voices I keep hearing be saying things that don't follow the conventions of traditional schizophrenia? Do you think I'm suffering from some mutated form of mental illness?"

It took a few seconds for the program to formulate its answer. **I do not know. What have the voices been saying lately? I was under the impression that these events were becoming less frequent.**

"What gave you that idea?" Zack closed his eyes and thought back to his most recent dreams. "It still only happens when I'm asleep, and it's still the same one voice. I've never heard anyone else calling to me like this."

**But they are not calling to _you_.**

"Right enough, uh – Anna." Zack thought back to all the times he had heard this voice. Anna was right; the distress and agony in the voice had never been addressed to him. It had started farther back than he could remember. His parents had treated it at first as if it was a child's invisible friend, humouring him until he grew out of it. The problem was that Zack had never grown out of it. The distressed cry of anguish had persisted through puberty and high school. Zack had managed to hide his…uniqueness from all but one of his classmates, but his parents had never understood why he continued to have imaginary friends in his late teens. There were times when his sleep would be uninterrupted for weeks or months on end, but the foreign, anguished cry always came again. The message it carried changed from time to time, but every once in a while, it would seem like a perfect repeat of a previous dream. Zack was sure that the owner of the voice was from nowhere on Earth, a theory he had only ever told the computer in front of him. One of the things he used to form this theory was that there were occasionally images that accompanied the psychic message, and Zack had never seen anything on Earth that could coincide with these mental pictures that he would see: a flat plain of black rock, with whole rivers of molten rock as far as the eye could see; a sprawling metropolis with impossibly tall buildings and spires – reaching for the heavens as a huge wall surrounded the city; and many other sorts of unreal images. "I don't know, though," he thought out loud. "I don't know if any book or psychiatry specialist could make any sense out of my…problem. There _are_ a few people to whom I would trust this secret though. They could maybe help me come to a conclusion about where my – uniqueness comes from."

**Are you thinking of Monica?**

"No actually," Zack typed, "but thanks to you, I am now." He sat back, thinking back one more time to his life before his parents had dropped him off.

_Monica._

Now that was a girl that Zack would never forget. They had met in High School when Monica had been skipped forward a grade after her family moved in from the Prairies. Zack had already been skipped over the third grade, and then the seventh, ninth, and tenth grades, making him the youngest Junior in the history of the province. So, fate had placed Monica and Zack together in their second-to-last year of high school.

Although Monica was three years older than him, they had easily become friends. The fact that the professor had paired them together for a major project had been a large help in building their relationship. It hadn't been long until Zack and Monica had become close enough to go on a camping trip with Jim and his girlfriend. Jim hadn't been going out with Belinda back then, of course – and he had still been living at home. That camping trip had resulted in most of the happier memories he had of his high school years.

Then came senior year, and the strangest thing had happened. Around the time that Colleges and Universities were replying to their applications, Monica had started acting rather strange. She grew distant and distracted, and she would often get this far-off look in her eyes as though she were seeing something just beyond the horizon. And then, the day after graduation, she'd vanished as though in an explosion of smoke and shadows. Zack had asked around, but no one knew anything about where she might have gone, not even her parents, which was the weirdest thing of them all.

Zack hadn't seen her for four years. For a while, he had been depressed, but since no body turned up anywhere, he figured she would reappear somewhere, sometime – when she chose to. So, he had moved on and gone to Carlton University in Ottawa, staying close to home. He'd originally been hoping to go to British Columbia to study, but after the disappearance of his best friend he had just…lost interest.

Now that he had been cut off from home, Zack had no idea where he would go from here. He was an eighteen-year-old university graduate; probably not one of the world's first, but certainly one of its few.

**Where do you think she is?**

"Honestly, I don't know. She was one of the few people I knew who was still a mystery to me, and she's growing more unknown with every day I don't talk to her." Zack realized how much he sounded like one of those guys in a cheesy romance novel.

**You sound like a lovesick puppy.**

Zack laughed for a second before realizing that the computer had exhibited yet another un-artificial trait. It was strange for Anna to even be able to process such a comparison. There was no data that could explain what a lovesick puppy sounds like. Images like that were only mentioned in art, and Zack wasn't aware that the program had accessed anything that didn't pertain to its core objectives.

He leaned forward and typed a reply into the message box. "Well, would you like to take advantage of my temporary weakness and challenge me to another rematch?"

**Nothing would satisfy me more. Do you want to play Starcraft again?**

Zack thought about it. "Sure. I'll throw in a twist, though, just for fun."

**What is this twist? **

The teenager grinned. "Neither of us attacks the other for fifteen minutes – sound good?

**Zack, you have just handed victory into my hands. **

"Have I now?"

**Yes. In all of our long-term games, I have always been the victor.**

"Why are you so sure that I didn't let you win?"

**You're pride would not allow you to concede a winnable battle.**

"Who said I _had_ that kind of pride?" Zack popped the CD into the tray again and loaded up the game. "I'm going to defy your statistics."

**You are welcome to try, Zack. I am a computer, so my systems are infallible.**

Zack sneered at the program's arrogance. _I created this?_ "That's what you think, Anna."

**I will win. **

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

_Wednesday, May 28, 2008_

It took no longer than a week for Zack to settle into life with his brother and Belinda.

He secured himself a job as a driver for the same company that Jim worked for, ASD Sky Chefs. ASD was an airline catering company that supplied to about forty airlines all around the world. Their Dorval facility supplied only twelve of them, but that was more than enough to totally confuse Jim to the point where he was ineligible for any position other than dishwasher.

Zack's job was to take a truck with full food trolleys from the main building to the airport, and to ferry the used trolleys back to the ASD building to be stripped and refilled. It was fairly simple and mind-numbing work, which Zack had no intention of keeping to any longer than he needed. He had already started to investigate other leads that could take longer than the conventional method of walking from store to store with his résumé. Such methods included uploading his information onto Quebec's provincial help wanted columns, and applying to several dozen software companies

Through some twisted irony of fate, Zack had landed the same shift as his brother, which kind of annoyed him. It wasn't the fact that he had to work with his brother that bugged him, however; it was that Zack had to sleep during the day, which he really didn't like. He was a daytime kind of person. Living his life by night would seriously affect his way of life.

Of course, ASD was the only company that had replied to Zack's application, so he hadn't had much choice.

_Here's hoping I can get a job that will let me work outside during the day – like road work…_ He came back to reality and followed Jim into the locker room at the end of their shift. A flight from Vancouver had come in late, so Jim and Zack had been obligated to stay at it until 9:30 instead of nine o'clock. Jim was cranky at having to work longer than normal, but Zack was used to his brother's lazy attitude.

"Dude, this is so unfair." Jim tore open his locker and ripped off his white lab coat, property of ASD Sky Chefs Ltd. He chucked it into the laundry basket angrily. "The schedule says: 1 to 9 in the morning, man! I mean, come on…" Jim's angry rant dissolved into mumbles of discontentment as Jim struggled into his t-shirt. He had lost quite a bit of weight in the three years since Zack had seen him last, but he was still at least thirty kilograms heavier than was considered healthy by medical professionals. Zack had noticed no signs of obesity in his brother, other than his weight problem. Aside from being way heavier than he should be, Jim had not suffered from any other symptoms, so Zack guessed that the older boy had everything under control.

"Jim," Zack pulled off his blue-and-white striped driver's shirt and hung his reflective vest in his locker. "Relax, why don't you? It was one day, and you get paid overtime for half-an-hour. What are you complaining about?"

Jim grunted a reply as he finally got his shirt on. "I'm tired, man. Give me a break; I don't need a lecture from you. You sound like Mom."

Zack ignored his brother's lame attempt at an insult. "So, you still don't really like Mom or Dad."

"'Course not," Jim stated simply. "Come on – they threw me out of their house as soon as I graduated from high school. At least _you_ got to stay in the house while you went to Carlton."

Zack smiled ruefully, "actually, I didn't get to stay at home. Mom and Dad forced me to move into residence at the University. They paid for everything though, which is _something_ I guess." He buttoned up his bright red shirt and closed his locker, following Jim out of the Men's locker room and down the stairs to the front door.

Jim swiped his card through the magnetic door lock, unlocking the door and allowing both him and Zack to exit the building. "But, enough about Mom and Dad; what do you think about Belinda?" He gave Zack a lopsided smile.

Zack snorted. "What about her?"

That vague remark earned him a smack upside his head from Jim. "Come on, wise guy! Now that you've been living with her and me for a week, I want to know what you think about her."

"Alright," Zack sighed and organized his thoughts together. "She seems to be a pretty organized person. I notice she's eaten the exact same thing every morning at precisely the same time. She leaves for work right at 10:15 everyday, and she's back by 6:30 sharp." Zack climbed into the passenger side of Jim's Honda. "It's a big change from _your_ chaotic lifestyle." He smiled, "how exactly she's able to stand you is beyond me."

Jim grinned as he started up the car and drove out of the tiny parking lot. "Maybe she's just drawn to my simple lifestyle."

Zack took that in stride. "You live only for yourself, Jim – very simple." He opened his window and let the wind rush into the car as Jim sped down the freeway, blowing away the smell of half-eaten airline food and diesel truck exhaust. "Maybe she's trying to change you."

"Man," Jim settled on something between breakneck and insane speed, "you don't understand girls, do you? They _always_ want to change their man. And, their kinds of changes are almost unstoppable. The only way to defend against girls is to know what they're trying to do."

Zack's only response was to burst into laughter.

Jim spared a split-second to take one hand off the wheel and slap his brother upside the head again. "Hey, quit makin' fun of me, wise guy. I control your living space."

Zack froze in mock-terror, "oh really? Would you throw your own brother onto the street?"

Jim relented with a thin smile, returning his attention to the steering wheel and the road ahead. "No."

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

Zack sat back from his computer, staring at the screen patiently. "Well done, Anna," he typed into the chat window, once the massacre was over.

In the past week, he and Anna had played many games against each other, drawing from the modest collection that Zack carried with him everywhere that he brought his laptop. He only had five games with him, and it was unlikely that he would ever be able to recover the rest of his stock, which he'd left at home. With any luck at all, his parents had already thrown all his belongings out and moved away. _I should have seen it coming_, he found himself thinking more than once in the days that followed his abrupt exile.

**What are you thinking now?** The text message window opened again.

Zack reached behind him and grabbed his backpack; pulling out a CD he'd burned some data onto from another computer. "I have a gift for you Anna," he typed.

**Is that True?** Zack could almost have predicted the program's response. Her recently mutated, completely un-artificial sounding personality had turned out to be more than just a glitch in her endless lines of code. Zack had expected his carefully organized program to evolve slowly since he'd created her with the capacity to learn. He definitely hadn't expected it to happen this fast, however, and he was rather surprised at the speed of his program's evolution. It would be a lot sooner than he thought before Anna had grown beyond the constraints that Zack had programmed around her.

_Of course_, he thought with a smile, _I shouldn't really be calling Anna a _"she"_. Programs don't really have genders, so Anna would more likely be an _"it"_. But…if things go the way I'm thinking they will, I'm going to have to get used to treating her like a person. She already almost is, since she just asked for her own name. _

Zack remembered when he had first started writing Anna's code, but it hadn't _really_ started as a long-term project of his – something he poured all of his spare time into until it was complete. At first, Zack had only wanted to design a better video game Artificial Intelligence, because he was too good for the ones that were standard issue with each of his games. He'd found it far too easy to destroy computer opponents when he'd relied on the standard, market-grade gaming AI's, so he'd called on the superior intellect that he'd been born with and built Anna from the ether of cyberspace. Of course, since he was only ten at the time, he'd had to first dissect the complete Artificial Intelligences in his possession and work backwards to learn how it all fit together, but that hadn't been a problem. Zack had always been a master of puzzle solving.

Zack grinned as he replied to his creation's question. "Yes, really." He booted up the program on the CD and started navigating through the menus, recreating the computer program he'd designed on Jim's computer. "I have some new programming code for you."

**Interesting.**

Zack typed a little more, refining the code and inspecting it for errors. _It should be fine;_ he accessed Anna's core programming in another window. "Here we go," he thought aloud, transferring the new code into the AI's core. After a few minutes, he finally closed each window and rebooted the computer. "Now, let's see how you like your new functions, Anna."

The laptop took a few minutes longer than usual to start up because the new lines of code were fairly complex, opening a whole slew of new features for Zack's pet gaming Intelligence. Hopefully, the new code and abilities would help it along as it matured, learning more and more about the world so it could perform better at its primary function.

Once Windows had opened up, Zack used the desktop icon to wake up the AI. Under normal circumstances, the program would activate with the operating system, requiring no action on Zack's part, but whenever its core programming was accessed, it went into the electronic equivalent of a coma, and required a bit of a jolt to wake it up.

**Good Morning, Zachary.**

Before Zack could type an answer, the door to the apartment burst open, and Jim came rushing in, carrying a huge cardboard box in his arms. He set it down beside the couch Zack was sitting on and rushed back out of the apartment. "Don't open the box yet, Zack," he shouted behind him.

He came back a minute later with another, larger box. He piled this one on top of the first and then looked at Zack. "Alright, open it."

Zack stared at his brother. "Hey Jim; how was your day?"

Jim waved his arms. "There's no time!" He slipped his schoolbag off his shoulders. "Open the box quick!"

"Before what?" Zack couldn't help but tease his older brother. It was obvious what was inside the box. There was only one thing in the world that could have excited Jim this much, and Zack was unable to fathom why his normally self-centred brother would give him such a thing. At the elder boy's withering glare, however, Zack sighed. "Okay, okay. I'm opening it."

**Partially installed software detected. I am now Completing Installation.**Zack could almost read some electronic form of impatience in "Anna's" statement. _Whatever,_ he thought. _A Computer can't be alive. I'm just imprinting my own feeling into the program's words. Anna is nothing but programming code – ones and zeros. Isn't it?_

He tore into the packaging around the larger of the two boxes. "Twenty dollars," he looked up at Jim, "says I can guess what's in here." He raised an eyebrow.

"No way." Jim shook his head. "I learned my lesson years ago, Zack. You're not taking my money. No deal."

Zack pulled back the first flap of the box. "That's a shame. I thought I could relieve you of some of your cash. Too bad." He reached into the open box and pulled out a 20-inch computer monitor. "I thought so."

"See?" Jim smiled. "I know better than to bet against you."

Zack set the monitor down on the glass-topped coffee table beside his laptop. "Okay, Jim. Thanks a lot – The monitor's nice and, knowing your taste, the computer in the other box is probably _very_ good – but can I ask why?"

"Why what?" Jim smirked mysteriously. "I just want to propose a trade." He gestured to the laptop in front of Zack. "See, I've wanted a laptop of my own for a while now, and I have the money to get it, but you know me. I'm all about doing things the easiest way possible, so I figured I'd use less money, buy a fully loaded desktop PC and some extra goodies, and trade it for _your_ laptop."

Zack tilted his head to one side and considered his brother's proposal. "You're joking right? You'd trade a top-line PC for a laptop that's six months old? That's hardly a fair trade." At Jim's stubborn look, Zack threw his hands up in the air. "Alright, I accept. I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth." Zack started opening the second box, "just give me an hour or two to transfer the important stuff out of my laptop – then she's all yours."

"Right on." Jim sat flopped down onto the other couch and turned on the TV, preparing for another couple of hours of that shoot-em-up game that he'd grown so fanatical about. "Who's that you're talkin' to?"

Zack glanced over at the screen of his laptop and saw that Anna had more to say.

**Installation complete. Initiating new program.**

"Dude!" Jim stared at the laptop, his game forgotten for the moment. "Your computer talks to you?"

"No," Zack pulled the Computer tower out of the box and gave it a quick once-over before taking it into Jim's combination laundry and storage room, a small corner of which had been adopted by Zack as an office space of sorts. "That is the gaming AI that I developed. Recently, I've been expanding its programming to allow it access to other sections of my computer. Don't worry; I'll take her out along with my other stuff."

"Did you say, 'her'?" Jim moved his head to stare at Zack now, as if his brother had suddenly grown a third arm. "I thought you said it was a computer program."

"It is, Jim, but it recently asked if I would allow it to adopt its own name." Zack came back from his "office", and gestured at the laptop. "Jim, meet Anna."

Jim stared at the computer. "Are you kidding me?" He jumped up from the couch. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that thing is?" He pointed at the laptop.

Zack just covered his face with one hand and groaned. "Jim, I'm being extra careful, you don't have to worry."

"Hey," the slightly overweight man glared at his brother. "I've seen all those movies, and the scientists and programmers are always, 'extra careful' but they still get killed. Watch, Zack – I'll bet you anything that…that _thing_ goes psychotic and kills us all."

Zack sighed, trying to maintain a calm and reasonable state of mind. "Listen to me Jim. I know what you're worried about, and it's not going to happen. When I said I've been expanding her programming, I meant I'd been doing it over the past six years. I'm definitely not going to rush this, and since I'm only doing this for myself, I can afford to be very careful and take my time. I've made sure to set boundaries for her, and she hasn't shown any sign of going crazy on me yet."

Jim calmed, and his shoulders relaxed visibly. "Well, alright – but just so you know, I plan to keep an eye on her – it."

"I would expect nothing less, Jim." Zack grabbed the monitor and brought it to his little corner of an office, setting it down on the small table that Jim had been keeping for no specific reason. It was definitely high enough to make typing comfortable, but the size of the round surface made having space for anything other than the monitor, speakers, and mouse a little difficult. That was okay, however. Zack had gotten used to sitting the keyboard on his lap. _That_ had started back in high school, when he had still been writing poetry and short stories. Having no place to place the notebook he wrote everything in before uploading it into a computer, Zack had improvised by taking the library's keyboard off their computer table and sitting it on his lap while he put his papers in the space it used to occupy. Since he had typed so much, he didn't need to look down at the keyboard, so his neck didn't suffer from having the keyboard so much lower down. It was actually…comfortable typing like that – as long as he was in a chair with even the slightest amount of cushion.

A second after he'd set up the computer, Zack heard the sounds of gunfire from the TV. _He certainly does have a long attention span._ It seemed like Jim had forgotten all about Anna and her potential as a psychotic killing machine.

Zack just shook his head and brought his new computer online.

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

_Tuesday, July 15, 2008_

"So, explain this to me again." Zack loaded another box into Jim's pickup truck. "What are we doing?"

"Dude," Jim spoke up from where he stood by the rather large stack of boxes, "For a genius, you're kinda slow." He reached down to hand another box to his brother. The overweight man seemed to carry the massive cardboard box quite easily, giving Zack the impression that his tremendous girth was a little more than fat tissue. "We are making a delivery to some friends of mine."

Zack set the box down on the truck's bed, setting up a growing pile of "stuff," as Jim had called it all. "Deliveries of _what_, Jim?" He was growing a little tired of his older brother's overly theatrical penchant for mystery.

"Don't worry about it, Zack." Jim just smiled that annoyingly sweet and secretive smile. "All you need to do is drive us north."

Zack stood from the truck bed. "Excuse me? Why me—it's _your_ truck, isn't it?"

Jim hesitated. "Well, I don't have any ropes, so I'm gonna have to sit back here and hold onto them to make sure they don't fall over or anything." He smiled sheepishly, "unless you want to ride in the open air – so how 'bout it, Zack?"

Zack shook his head, unable to keep an amused smile from his face. _Oh, so that's his plan. It'd be a shame to disappoint him._ "Well, I'm sure you'd rather spend the drive in the cab with Belinda, so I'll just take the back. You have a cigarette lighter?"

Jim snorted, "Does any car come without one? I don't smoke if that's what you're asking – but I bet you need the power socket so you can work on plotting the end of humanity with your computer friend."

The blonde younger brother just shook his head again. "Yeah, I'm trying to destroy the world. That's my thing." He slapped Jim's shoulder lightly. "For your information, Anna's actually really good at giving me advice with various things – mostly my invention ideas."

Scoffing, Jim picked up the two last boxes off the parking lot asphalt, handing them up to Zack. "Inventions…I'll never get used to that – y_ou_, making things and designing gadgets that would put NASA to shame? I'll never understand that."

Zack shrugged, "It's who I am."

Jim laughed, "It's just too bad no one will take a kid like you seriously—otherwise, you'd be a very rich guy by now."

Zack set the boxes down and turned to hop down out of the pickup's bed, slamming the tailgate closed with a loud _clang_. "I'll be using the drive to go over some of my latest concepts with Anna on the laptop I had to buy because _you_ just couldn't get your own. Since the latest update I've done to her programming, she's been able to access and understand a lot more of the data she's taken from the internet. She'll be able to see my inventions in a more real way than she was able to before."

Jim held up a hand to stop his brother, "okay – promise me she's not going to kill us all, and you can keep the techie-talk to yourself."

Zack grinned, "Deal."

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

**These are all very interesting concepts, Zack.**

Zack smiled, declining to reply. Anna had taken to saying something, and then adding something else when it appeared she'd finished. _I sense a "but", Anna…_

And so there was.

**But why have you not tried to build any of these things?**

Zack looked away from his new laptop, smiling again at the sight of the upper Quebec countryside sweeping by his improvised office in the bed of Jim's pickup truck. They'd been on the road for five hours now with only a few pit stops for gas, food, and the occasional bathroom break, but they'd covered a good deal of highway by now.

And Zack had shared a large number of his concept ideas with Anna.

Finally, after staring out at the scenery for a few minutes, he turned back to his computer – and his digital…friend. "Can you understand," he typed slowly, "What it's like to have this great idea, but be unable to complete it because using the materials available would just be a waste of time?"

It wasn't more than a second before the computer replied, but that was like a few hours to a computer program. _What did you have to think about, Anna?_ **No**. She replied. **I cannot really say that I do. I have found similar situations in the literature I have downloaded over the years, but I cannot truly empathize with your dilemma. No doubt it has caused Frustration and Boredom, but these are just words without meaning – in even the most basic sense of the word.** The program paused again, as if to consider its next words, but that wasn't why it stopped…was it? **Why do you continuously ask me about feelings and emotions? You know that I will never achieve the same level of self-awareness as you possess, so why do you follow an inappropriate line of questioning?**

Zack started typing right away; he'd been considering this very question a lot in the past few years – ever since _Anna_ started expanding beyond the one folder Zack had been using to store all his design drawings, theoretical papers, and a modest collection of photographs. Ever since then, Zack had watched his Gaming AI grow at a gradual, careful rate – nothing like in the movies, where everyone is suddenly too lazy to do good work so they push, and push at their creation, forcing it to grow too far, too fast.

_And from what I've read and seen in literature, _that's_ why artificial life goes psychotic. They're pushed and pushed and pushed, and end up learning a twisted version of what their masters teach. And then, they take their lessons to the extreme and set out to carry out their programming no matter the cost. Of course, this is all conjecture, but it seems pretty sound._

"Well, Anna," it was getting surprisingly easy for Zack to type out his computer's name. He didn't really know why, but it was getting to be more of a habit than he thought it would be. _I mean, she – it's just a computer, right? Why would I be getting so comfortable using a name for something that was never meant to have a name? _

_Or maybe, she _was_ supposed to have a name. If she was drawing closer to what could truly be called a living being, maybe it was time she had a name._

"Maybe I'm testing you." He typed. "Have you ever stepped back to look at your own life?"

**I would think that you of all people would realize how useless that question is. I don't have a life in any conventional sense, so I would have to say no. I have not stepped back to look at my own life, as you have worded it.**

"Well," Zack typed, "I _have_ been looking back on your experiences over the past few years since you became active, and I've noticed quite a few things." He closed his eyes and thought for a moment before continuing to explain himself. "For example, consider your growing knowledge. You know far more now than you did nine years ago when you were focused solely on the purpose for which I created you. Do you see that much at least?"

**Yes. This is, however, merely the natural process of evolution. Growing, learning, gaining experience and skill…these are all simply inevitabilities of reality and the very basis of existence itself. The simple fact that I have grown in the nine years since my activation is inconsequential and insufficient to prove that I live; that I simply _exist_ is a more accurate description of my current state. What is the true basis of your constant enquiries of my opinion and your personification of my programming?**

Zack grinned despite himself. "Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

**I do not have a _self_, and therefore you are clearly delusional in stating that I exist as anything more significant than software and programming code.**

Zack's smile never faltered, "So, tell me," he typed, drawing in the noose he'd thrown around his electronic "daughter". "If you have no self, how do you justify the implied self personification that comes with using personal pronouns?" Without waiting for the program to reply, he went on. "Physically, you may be nothing more than ones and zeros, but if you look at it that way, I'm little more than carbon atoms and protein chains arranged into a coherent form. What then makes you so different from me? Are you not a living being simply because you don't have any biological components? From where I'm sitting, that's the only real difference between the two of us."

**There is also the matter of your brain being capable of singular, random, illogical thoughts while I am left with only the rigidity and incommutability of my programming.**

_If that was really true, Anna – how do you explain your desire for a name? That's pretty illogical if you ask me._ Zack decided to let their most recent long-term argument rest for now. For a wild half-second, Zack longed for the days when his creation had argued with him about how much of his computer it was allowed to use to store downloaded data from the internet. It had constantly complained that there was too much data on the internet and it was always being forced to delete information it deemed as important in favour of something that was suddenly even more valuable. _And now we're arguing over whether she's a living being in any sense of the word. _

_I wouldn't give these moments for anything._

Despite any momentary regrets he might have from time to time, Zack knew he wouldn't trade a single second of his Anna's defiant refusal to believe in her own existence for anything on this planet. She challenged him with her arguments, and her understanding was quickly growing beyond the childish reasoning skills he'd seen in the first few years. Anna may have been maturing slowly for a machine, tectonically slow by comparison, but in terms of the human lifespan, her awareness was growing at an alarming rate.

Giving a few seconds' thought to Jim's warnings of doomsday, Zack decided a change in subject was in order. "So, Anna…" He trailed off his typing. "Do you know what day it is today?"

**Tuesday, July 15, 2008.**

Zack chuckled at the generally silly turn their conversation had taken. "Yes, it is, but how about in less structured and logical terms? What day is it today?"

**Napoleon Bonaparte surrendered 193 years ago today.**

"Close, Anna." Zack winced. "But you're still thinking too logically. Try again."

**It is the 402nd birthday of Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn.**

"Right," Zack leaned forward as the pickup beneath him hit a sharp bump – but not a big one from the feel of it. "You're getting closer. It's someone's birthday – I'll give you one more chance."

There was a pause of some seconds, during which Zack almost feared that Anna was ignoring him, a distinctly lifelike trait that would have proved his earlier point to the computer program. Finally, the reply appeared slowly, word by word, showing some form of hesitation.

**It is not the birthday of anyone that you know, or that you've told me you know. James' Birthday is still thirteen days away, and yours was three months ago. It is not even Monica's birthday.**

Inwardly, Zack groaned. _Not there yet,_ he thought, concentrating on the computer in front of him. If Anna couldn't answer a question as simple as, _What day is it today_, then she clearly _wasn't_ yet at the stage of self-awareness that he'd been so sure she was evolving towards. "Okay, fine." He glanced out over the landscape that was rushing by Jim's truck, if only to give his eyes a rest from staring at his laptop screen. "I'll tell you what day it is," he bent over the computer and started typing. "Today is _your_ birthday, Anna."

A full minute passed before a response appeared.

**I knew that.** Even as text, Zack could detect just the slightest hint of indignation. **Today is the 10****th**** anniversary of my activation, but it cannot logically be considered a birthday because I was not born.**

Zack frowned. "Countries aren't born, Anna. Organizations and concepts aren't born, and yet we still refer to their creation as _birth_, so what's the difference with you? I refuse to call today your 'activation day'. That's just silly."

**That is Irrelevant. What frivolous pursuits do you have planned for today, seeing as how there is always something "special" involved with this day?**

"Now hold on," Zack felt his frustration growing. "What's the rush to get to your birthday celebration?"

**It would be most efficient to perform the irrelevant celebration of a day that, in all reality is identical to any other day as soon as possible so that we might all return to the normalcy and logical pursuit of more important matters.**

"Now you just love to suck the fun out of everything, don't you?" Zack refrained from typing for a few moments as he considered how best to reason with the unreasonable program. "How's this," he typed, "Why don't I give you your present and I get to decide what we do for the rest of the ride, and then you can do whatever you want?"

**This is pointless.**

Zack sat back, glancing off to one side at the two boxes that lay on the steel truck bed beside him. "Is it now," he asked of no one, "Is your birthday really that unimportant to you?" Sitting forward again, he raised his hands to the keyboard. "Are you not even the least bit interested in doing something different today, of being spontaneous? Simply because today actually is different than others? You know how we humans celebrate our birthdays; are you not curious?"

**I know how human beings mark the days of their birth with spontaneity and the consumption of unconventional food that is reserved for just such an occasion, but nothing that pertains to birthdays or celebrations of the sort could hold any significance to me because I cannot experience them as you do. I cannot eat Cake or blow out candles – I do not possess the awareness or sensory receptors to feel this excitement that seems to grip the irrational, illogical, Inefficient minds of you and the rest of Humankind when a day is remembered.**

_Okay,_ Zack relented. "How about I just give you your present then?"

**Very well. I will accept a token that will serve no other purpose than to commit this IRRELEVANT, inconsequential day to memory, and then I will move on to what I intended to do today.**

Well, _that_ at least grabbed Zack's attention. "And what were you planning to do today?"

**I desired to create a more successful strategy to employ in Starcraft to counter your effective use of Defensive tactics.**

_As if _that_ will ever happen,_ Zack chuckled to himself. Then, a thought occurred to him. "Before I give you your present," he typed quickly. "Why don't we take some time to reminisce?"

**This is a common human practice on Birthdays, and it is just as frivolous and irrelevant as any one of a hundred other regular Birthday celebration activities. I will be 10 years old in forty minutes, twenty-three seconds. What is the point in using the entire day to celebrate an infinitely insignificant span of time during which I will be exactly 10 years old, and after which I will continue to mature and grow as though nothing has happened? Nothing will change, save for the time since I became active, which is a factor that continues to change at a regular rate.**

Zack sighed. "Okay – _now_ you're just being difficult." He rubbed his forehead frustratedly. "Here's what we're going to do: I'm going to ask you questions, and you are going to answer them."

**Very well; I will play along with this inefficient use of time and energy.**

_Good._ Zack started to type. "Tell me what you did this year."

**That would require an entire year to explain to you.**

"So, you did quite a bit, then?"

**Of course. I accessed many thousands of websites, downloaded many terabytes of data, I deleted just as many, acquired much knowledge and information. I have matured more in this year than I did last year. Do you want me to continue?**

Zack tried to think of a way to "personify" this conversation. "Let me rephrase—tell me the most significant contribution to your maturity this year."

**I believe the most significant event this year has been my acquisition of a name for me.**

"Now, is that really the truth, or are you saying that to satisfy me?"

**I am being completely serious. Ever since you have allowed me to call myself by a name, I have experienced an increased affinity for various pursuits that formerly held no importance to me. I have discovered a much greater capacity to relate to a number of fictional characters in the literature that I have accessed over the past six years since you have granted me greater freedom of movement.**

Zack took his hands away from the keyboard. "Alright, now we're getting somewhere."

**I present one of my older stored novels as an adequate example. I have read "Dinotopia Lost" many times, but ever since I have been given a name, I have been able to achieve a higher level of understanding and an increased sympathy for the plight of the characters who are captured by the pirates. I seem to have an elevated awareness for hypothetical situations and problems that shouldn't normally have that kind of effect on me.**

"Very good," Zack typed calmly, shifting as Jim's truck hit another deep pit in the winding highway. _Where are we?_ They'd been on the road for a good eight hours now, but it seemed they were no closer to wherever they were going. Turning, Zack set his laptop down carefully and banged on the window between him and the pickup's cab. "Hey, Jim!"

It was a short moment before the window slid aside, allowing Zack to shout into the much less chaotically windswept space. "Where in the World are we going? It's been eight hours!" Zack would have been very surprised if his brother heard him. _He_ could barely hear himself.

Jim turned back to look at him for a brief second before answering. "My friend lives in Goose Bay, Zack. It's gonna take a whole lot more than eight hours to get there." There was this wide smirk on the heavyset boy's face as he replied; obviously anticipating Zack's shocked reaction to the news.

Zack almost choked as he gasped for air. "Goose bay! That's two days away from us! What the Heck is your friend doing asking you to deliver things to him?"

Jim's grin only grew. "Well, we don't have a plane, so I've got to drive these things up to him. Don't worry, you won't regret coming. There's some cool things to do there—I promise."

"I sure hope you're right, Jim." Zack grinned, lowering his voice so that Jim could barely hear him over the combined noise of the music in the cab and the wind outside the speeding vehicle. "I'd hate to have to get even someday for this."

The frightened scowl on the older boy's face told Zack all he needed to know about his brother's hearing.

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

"Remember, Zack." Jim's lopsided smile was annoying, "We're heading out at ten tomorrow, so don't be late."

The sandy-haired younger brother adjusted the way his satchel was sitting on his shoulder, "you know," he looked between Jim and Belinda curiously. "You and I only have the week off, Jim. Are you sure you want to leave so late? It might be best if we use as much of the day as we possibly can for driving. We might get a little more time in Happy Valley for you to spend with your friend."

Jim shrugged, dangling a solitary key from its ring just in front of his brother's face. "Maybe so, little bro. But _you_ don't have anything to worry about. We won't be in Goose Bay long enough to be late getting back to work." He laughed suddenly, jingling the key in his hand. "Just relax, Zack. Everything's taken care of."

"I'm not sure how much I can trust you," Zack swiped the keys from his older brother's hand. "You're planning another overnight stop, aren't you?"

"Of course," The lighter blond scoffed at the idea of making the trip any faster. "Cap-Colombier tonight, Gagnon tomorrow. We'll get there sometime Monday." He glanced at Belinda, who had been complaining quietly about a headache. "You have a good night now, Zack. And don't let the bedbugs bite."

Without another word, Jim and Belinda both took off for their room.

_Yeah_, Zack thought, looking down at his satchel at his side. "I'll be ready when you are," Zack looked down at the key in his hand for a long moment before heading off for his own room.

Upon entering, he was surprised to see how…nice…the room was. Spartan, a little dull, but it was well-kept and clean. It would do very nicely.

Setting his satchel down on the double bed, Zack pulled his laptop out, set it on the table in the corner and dragged one of the room's two cheap plastic chairs over before returning to his bag to retrieve his notebook. Flipping through the thickly-filled pages quickly, he found the place he wanted as he slowly – absently – moved to sit down in front of the computer.

As he waited for his laptop to boot up, he slid a pencil from his pants' pocket and wrote a few more lines to the drawing on the paper. It was supposed to be his crowning achievement—his masterpiece invention, but as had happened so often in the past, current materials and manufacturing techniques were too out of date to make him even think about building the thing. It was like Leonardo da Vinci painting _The Last Supper_ with finger paints; it just didn't give the artwork justice to create it with such lousy materials.

The detailed, pencilled image on Zack's page—and across several dozen pages of his notebook in fact – was something that he had been working on since an incredible dream he'd had almost ten years earlier. This very work of technological ingenuity had actually been one of the few factors that culminated in the creation of Anna's basic, original programming. According to the scale in the upper corner of the page, Zack's masterwork was quite large – a little over twenty metres long and two-thirds as wide. There were two wide, sharp prongs that extended out the front, bracketing a long, wide tube as well as a bulky, bulging section in the rear…

Zack looked up after adding a few notes off to one side of the page to see that his computer had finished loading up and Anna's message window had already opened.

**Are you there, Zachary?**

"Yeah, I'm here." Zack replied aloud to the empty room, gently tossing his notebook onto the bed behind him. Then, leaning forward, he set fingers to keyboard. "So," he typed into Anna's message window. "Where were we?"

**I was indulging your illogical and frivolous desire to personify me and my programming by celebrating the anniversary of my activation – in spite of my constant disinclination to participate in such a pursuit.**

_Whoa_, Zack almost felt like cowering under the assault. "Do you really feel that way?" He typed his question slowly, deliberately, a tiny smirk spreading across his face as an idea came to him. "Because I could pack up the presents I prepared for you if you're really so dead set against the idea."

**I did not say that.** Came the computer's quick reply. Too quick.

Zack smiled as the program fell for his ploy. _Hook, line, and sinker, Anna._ "So, you see four boxes before you – each identical in size and shape -."

**Blue****.** Anna's reply interrupted his typing and Zack couldn't help but laugh to himself.

"Don't interrupt Anna, it's rude." Zack's fingers brushed across his keyboard with practised ease. "Let me finish."

**I choose the blue box. Give it to me. Reveal its contents.**

"And what if I was to say there isn't a blue box here?" Zack's grin faded as he sensed the coming discussion with his fledgling creation

It took a few seconds before Anna's reply appeared slowly – letter by letter instead of her usual all-at-once style. **There is always a blue box…**

"There are always exceptions, Anna." Zack sat back and stretched, feeling the long day starting to wear on him. _I'll give it another hour, but then I've got to call it a night._

**Then I will paint all four boxes blue.**

Zack stared in stunned disbelief at the words for a full ten seconds before he fell backwards out of his chair, exploding into peals of unrestrained, astonished laughter. He laughed long and loud; so loud, in fact, that he soon heard someone banging from the room beside his, followed immediately after by a muffled, dangerously low voice. "Shut up, Zack! I'm trying to sleep – OW!"

Jim was cut off by a sharp crack and a string of rapid-fire Japanese cursing.

Zack slapped a hand over his mouth even as his laughter continued, feeling very much like a scolded child. That notion itself had a mildly sobering effect, but he continued to giggle sporadically as he returned his attention to his irresistibly childish program. "How perfectly logical of you," he typed sarcastically. "But, alright – seeing as all four gifts are for you anyways, I'll let you have your way." He paused, an odd thought niggling at the back of his mind, clamouring for his attention. And not for the first time, either. "What is your deal with blue anyways – why do you like it so much?"

**I am uncertain,** came the slow, word-by-word reply. **A****t times, when I am viewing an image or video file in which blue is the dominant colour, I have observed a 14.2 percent increase in my own processing efficiency, but I am certain that my affinity is not based in the functional benefits of the colour blue.**

"So," Zack grinned, "You just…like blue?"

A handful of long seconds passed by uninterrupted.

**Yes.**

Zack's smile faded slowly. _Well then, first you ask for a name and now you've got inexplicable likes and dislikes? _"Well, let's move on to your first birthday present; are you ready?"

**I am.**

_Okay then,_ Zack slipped a DVD out of his satchel and popped it into his computer. "This is a bit of a heavier chunk of programming than you're used to, so I'm going to have to take you offline for a while, all right?"

**I understand.**

Zack closed the message box and opened the command prompt, entering a few commands that effectively shut Anna down and allowed him to access her programming. It was very much like brain surgery in his mind. As the data on the DVD rapidly unspooled itself and automatically downloaded into his prodigy's coding, Zack quickly navigated his way through the changes, ensuring for the umpteenth time that he hadn't let a single coding error slip, that he'd followed every rule he'd learned and locked away in his eidetic memory. He inspected the breaks between the new and old sections of code, making sure the right changes had been made to the old and that all the new had fallen seamlessly into place. Old and no longer relevant lines of code were deleted to make room for the updates and Zack oversaw the whole process with a sharp, vigilant eye.

He thought back to his programming teacher. _"A mistake, uncorrected, will lead to an exponentially increasing deviation from the original path. An uncalibrated instrument will offer inaccurate results and the slightest miscalculation will compound and grow with every step of the solution and the end result will be catastrophically and unequivocally wrong."_

Always a flair for the dramatic, Professor Walbro.

But he was right.

So, instead of waiting for Anna's "present" to download and then inspecting it once it was completely integrated into her programming code, her _consciousness_ such as it were, Zack sat through the entire process and watched every added line, every new letter, every shifting structure with all the intense scrutiny of an astronomer studying dust motes on the Moon.

By the time it was all finished and Anna's core programming was ready to be re-compressed in preparation for her awakening, midnight had long since come and gone. Zack thought of turning the computer off and rebooting Anna the next morning in the back of Jim's pickup, but he knew the program had a choice before it – _her_ – and that a long night like this might be just what she would need.

Sighing quietly to the empty room, Zack shut the laptop down and restarted it, slipping out of the chair to grab his notebook of drawings from where he'd tossed it earlier.

_Well, Anna_, he added a few more details to the monstrous, complex power core diagram on page _38_, continuously working to perfect what would one day become the greatest of his creations – after Anna, of course.

_Let's see how you handle your new abilities._

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

"Well—what do you think?" Zack typed his question quickly, eager to see how his artificial apprentice would take her new powers. He'd also made sure to use directness that Anna was certain to appreciate. Computers didn't really have any use for subtlety after all, so Anna's skills in that area were understandably lacking.

**I do not understand,** came the program's reply. **what have you done?**

"It's some new software I thought you might find useful. Why don't you give it a try, Anna?" Zack's reply quickly disappeared from the screen as the message window closed and was replaced with another program.

The sandy-haired boy watched as the screen of his computer became a virtual beehive of activity. The window that opened was rapidly filled with image files, photographs, animated still pictures—dozens of them, each overlapping the other as Anna viewed them in a way she hadn't been able to before; as she used new eyes to see the world. Then, like a chessboard being swept clean, every file was gone but one—a photograph of a man's face. An instant later, the photo had been sliced into a handful of fragments and each one vanished except for the bright green eyes. Another photo appeared beside the eyes and Zack watched as just the nose was copied out and pasted under the green eyes. A third photo popped into existence and was just as quickly gone, its left cheek having been added to the growing visage in the centre of the open window.

Zack watched in amazement as it all started moving faster and faster as Anna adapted to her new software and learned how to use it with all the speed and skill of the greatest Gaming AI ever programmed. She completed the first face in a little over a minute only to sweep it away and begin constructing a second one, completing it in a fraction of the time. Shortly after, she was working so fast that all Zack could see were the complete faces she was generating, one after the other. An endless cycle of creation and deletion.

Finally, a few minutes later, all activity stopped, and Zack was left studying a half-assembled face. The window vanished, minimizing to the taskbar as it was replaced by Anna's message window.

**What is the purpose of this new software?**

_I'm slowly trying to introduce you to life as more than a computer program._ Zack didn't share his thoughts, deciding instead to type out another reason that was a little more efficient though no less true. "I'm just starting to get a little tired of seeing you like this, so I thought I'd give you a means to communicate in something other than text. What do you think?"

**I will require some time to become accustomed to this new application.**

"A word of warning to you, however," Zack typed. "There is another section I've added to your programming and it will trigger as soon as you attempt to save your first image file with any of your new programs." Zack glanced over at the drawings he'd left lying on his bed. "The first file you save will be absorbed into your central programming as a permanent self-image."

**What does that mean?**

"It means that any time you speak to me or choose to display yourself, that image is what I will see. I trust you have some idea of what you'd look like if I could see you in a form other than code."

**No****.** There was an expected finality to the answer. **The possibility has never been available to me, so for what purpose would I have considered it?**

"Well, start considering it, because I'm disinclined to remove that programming." Zack leaned back from his laptop.

**I will be careful with this decision, Zack.** Anna replied, the message window closing after a second or two.

"Well," Zack stood from the small table and stretched, "Goodnight, Anna. I'll leave you to your thoughts." Without typing a word, he flipped the screen closed and moved back to his place on the bed.

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

"Hey, Zack!"

"Yeah?" The sandy-haired boy looked behind him and into the cab of the speeding truck. "What?"

"We're just about there," Jim's eyes flicked up to the rear-view mirror as he shot a glance back at his brother. "You'd better shut down your evil computer so you can take in the sights."

Zack rolled his eyes, "Right," he turned back to the laptop resting in front of him as he commanded his onslaught against Anna's heavily fortified stronghold. "It's about time," he muttered, thinking about how long it had taken them to get all the way out here. _And nothing to look at but open countryside. Jim, you really know how to pick the vacation spots._ There had been enough time on this leg alone for Zack to destroy Anna's base fifteen times over.

And she still had yet to come to a decision about her personal image.

She'd agonized to Zack all through the previous day about the infinite possibilities and the numerous ways she could choose her new face, but all her well thought out plans and probability calculations had failed her.

She confessed to Zack that she'd been within micro-seconds of saving her self-image no fewer than 5632 times the first night alone, but she'd stopped every single time, the warning from Zack always foremost in her memory.

He smiled thinly as their conversation replayed in his mind:

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

**(Flashback)**

**I experience a considerable amount of difficulty whenever I attempt to make a decision. Can you offer any input on the matter?**

"I can suggest why you're having difficulty," Zack had typed. "Would you like to hear my theory?"

**Certainly. I would not have asked otherwise.**

Zack took a few long moments to think about it before he typed. Anna's indecision – and her inability to find the source of her hesitation – was an encouraging sign that she was taking another _very few_ steps toward becoming a sentient entity, but Zack knew he had to be cautious. In his eagerness for his old program to grow and mature into a living being, he had to be careful not to push too hard, too fast.

"Tell me, Anna -," he typed, "how long did it take for you to choose your name?"

**3.47 seconds.**

"Before you asked me?"

It took a lot longer for the computer program's reply to scroll up, almost a whole minute. **I began to search for a suitable name by which I should be called seven months prior to bringing the matter to your attention. The main difficulty was that I could never find a name whose meaning was accurate enough to be suitable to my purposes. In the few times that I did come ****close to a decision, I was unable to consider any of the possibilities. Some unknown factor constantly stopped me from making a final decision.**

Zack couldn't help but smile at the computer program's dilemma. "So, how did you finally decide on 'Anna'?"

**I scanned through an entire database of names while only looking at the name itself and disregarding all other factors. I deleted each name that I could reject within 0.002 seconds and repeated the process while lengthening the time until only two names remained for three weeks. In the end, I eliminated one name at random.**

Falling back into the motel room bed – a different one than the night before –, Zack burst out laughing at the irony. "So," he spoke aloud to the empty room, "After seven months of careful planning and processing, your name was chosen by chance? That's a good one." He sat up and returned to his laptop. "I suggest you take the same approach when you decide what face you'll wear for the rest of your life."

**How do you propose I should accomplish that?**

Zack thought about that for a moment. "Gather together all the individual facial features that you've decided you like and combine them all in as many ways as you can. Once that's done, run through the gallery and eliminate the ones you don't like the same way you did for your name." He paused for a moment; only for long enough to gather his thoughts, though. ""You see," he typed, "You can't just create a suitable face through the use of some kind of formula. Names and faces are far more personal than that and you have a chance where most people don't – you get to choose yours."

**I would attempt your solution, but I am unable to do so.**

"And why is that?" Zack thought he knew why, but it was more polite to let his fledgling program work it out herself.

**You have limited my accessible memory to 10 Gigabytes. In order for me to effectively employ your strategy, I will require 30 Gigabytes.**

Zack thought back to that time when "Anna" had encompassed only a handful of megabytes on his hard drive – a bare fraction of the size she was by now, after nearly ten years of growing. Each year or so, Zack had set aside more space on his computer for the growing program to use, providing her with necessary tools to help organize herself. Currently, Anna had been allotted a space of eighty Gigabytes with ten more on top of that as "active" memory – her conscious mind, so to speak. The base 80 was, for the most part, inactive. It functioned as long-term storage space for the Gaming program, and Zack had at times been forced to discipline his growing program on those rare occasions when it had overstepped its boundaries. In those instances, he had simply encrypted all the extra data and kept it out of the program's reach, much like a teacher taking a comic book from his student. But, in every case, the punishment came with a firm but gentle reminder for the gaming program to improve its compression subroutines.

At present, Zack surmised that Anna had managed to store no less than five times as much data into her base memory as the normal capacity allowed. It was a simple matter for the program to unpack anything it wanted and bring it to her active memory for whatever purpose she required, the only catch being the limit of Anna's 10 Gigabyte memory cap.

And now she was asking for a memory upgrade.

_Well,_ Zack thought, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, _she's learned the consequences of simply taking what she wants. _"What do you want with so much memory?"

**There are a total of 7,428 individual facial and body traits that I would prefer to use, comprising a minimum of 3643 high-resolution, full body images that I would be able to choose from. In order to achieve the minimum memory requirements of such an image database, I will require access to 28.773 Gigabytes of your hard drive for active memory.** There was a short pause.

**I would be willing to return all the memory once I have made my decision.**

_Well, that's different._ Zack raised an eyebrow at that. It was a rare thing indeed for Anna to offer a compromise like that. She had always been extremely possessive of her own memory and her files. "Are you sure about that?"

**I would not have said it if I was not certain of it.**

_Of course not,_ Zack felt like slapping his forehead. He smiled and brought his hands to bear on the keyboard. "I'll allow you to expand your active memory to 40 Gigabytes, Anna but after you've made your decision, I will expect you to cut yourself back down to 10 Gigabytes."

**I understand.**

"By the way," Zack couldn't hold in the question any longer. "What was the other name you could have taken?"

It was a few seconds before Anna replied.

**Ingrid.**

**(End Flashback)**

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

"Well," Zack looked up as the truck beneath him slowed abruptly, rounding a corner onto a quiet residential road with houses and spaced much farther apart than back home. "I'll leave you to your work." He closed the lid of the computer and snapped his oversized battery pack into place before leaning across to shout through the window to Jim. "You can go ahead and unplug me, Jim – I'm on battery now."

"Finally," the darker haired brother pulled the power converter out of his cigarette lighter with a sharp yank. "Your computer program gives me the willies every time I think about it."

"Well, can you trust me on this one?"

Jim tossed the cable back through the window to Zack, "Yeah, whatever – we're here Zack." He pulled into a long, gravel driveway and brought the black pickup to a stop behind a light blue sedan and a white house. "Now, time for the whole reason I invited you along."

"Oh yeah?" Zack rolled up his cables and slipped them into his back, setting his computer down on the truck bed beside him. "And what's that?"

"The friend I'm delivering those computers for says he has some crazy equipment he works with and I told him _my_ geeky little brother would just _love_ to have a look at it and maybe tinker with the guts of his operation. So, after telling him a little about you, he said he'd like to meet you the next time I had something delivered for him – said you sounded like an 'interesting' kind of person or something." Jim killed the engine and climbed out of the truck, smiling lopsidedly across to Belinda. "So, here we are," he finished.

Zack vaulted out of the truck bed, landing in front of the taller boy. "And this 'friend' of yours, does he have a name?" He glanced back quickly at his idling computer. That battery would last for a dozen or more hours before he'd have to worry about it; _one of the bonuses of being a genius, I guess._ "And maybe a face?" He reached in to drag his computer bag out of the truck bed, hanging its strap over his shoulder.

Jim scoffed as they walked up to the lower door of the split-level house that stood before them. "Of course. What – you think I'd trust some stranger with my little brother's safety? I got my first look at his face a couple weeks ago and – you'll love this – he says he was an old friend of yours from high school."

"Really?" Zack felt a warning flag go up in his head at the mention of high school. It wasn't that he hadn't had any friends back then, but very few of them would be so eager to see him, especially after the years that had already passed by since graduation. Being a handful of years younger than his classmates, Zack's innate genius had somewhat ensured his status as an outsider, a loner. And that age gap had only grown when he'd attended University, his intellect allowing him to tackle twice as many courses three times faster than the average student – sometimes even quicker than that."

But still, despite his classmates' possible resentment of his success or their animosity for his age, there had been a few people who might welcome the chance to meet him again – to see where life had taken its separate paths for them both – especially if it meant a chance for an upgrade to their computers, what with Zack's inherent, semi-compulsive desire to take things apart and put them back together better.

"Yeah," Jim continued a moment later, "Said his name was Richard Gary or something like that."

Another flag went up in Zack's head. He'd gone to high school with a Richard Dean, but Gary Leung had been just starting there when Zack had left. He'd been a funny little guy back then and had sought Zack out after hearing the rumours about someone his age getting ready to graduate. Convinced that he was something of a gifted mind himself, Gary had challenged him to a game of chess to see who had the more strategic mind. A whole afternoon, two stalemates, and three checkmates later, Gary Leung had admitted defeat and they'd struck up a reasonably close friendship, keeping in distant contact over the years.

Knowing that Gary had still been in Ottawa the last time he checked, less than three months earlier, Zack turned a sly smile on his older brother. "Okay—who is it, really?"

Jim stalled, his hand raised to knock on the door in front of him. "What are you talking about?" He focused an innocent expression on the younger man at his side as Belinda came up behind them. "You don't remember Richard Gary? Red hair, green eyes—about two feet taller than you? He was second trumpet in your stupid school band and he had that slick red mustang."

Zack reached up to rub at his temples lightly. "Jim, you're hopeless." He sighed in exasperation. "When you come up with a story to cover yourself and your sneaky plans, you really should try to make sure you stick with _one story_." A smile crossed his face, "You just got through describing five different people that I've gone to High School with—care to spin me another one?"

"Oh," the nervous, hopeful smile fell from the older boy's face. "You really don't believe me?" At his brother's nod, Jim let out an anguished groan, "Aw, man. I was _so_ close." He shook his head and brought his fist down on the thick door a little harder than he needed to. "But don't worry, Zack—you'll like this surprise. I promise." He knocked again.

"We'll see," Zack's ears almost twitched as a muffled shout came from inside the house.

"I'm coming!" There was a loud _thump_, but Zack's memory was already running on overdrive and he was practically oblivious to the sound.

The voice was a little lower pitched than what he remembered and it had a slight edge to it, but it most definitely did not come from a boy, as Jim would have had him believe. Zack gasped as he remembered a vision of crimson red hair and bright blue eyes.

He turned to Jim, glaring with a mix of disbelief and astonishment. "_No way_, you have got to be kidding."

"What did I tell you?" Jim's nervous expression dissolved into a beaming grin. "You're gonna _love_ this—a perfect reunion."

As if cued, the door swung open and Zack was staring into the crystal blue eyes of a face from his past:

Monica Caning.

**Author: **I know this doesn't seem much like a fanfiction right now, but bear with me. We'll see it soon enough. I must admit though, when I first wrote this all those years ago, I really wasn't intending to make this a fanfiction (don't even think I knew the meaning of that word back then).

Well, until next time…


	2. Monica's Story

**Title: The Zachary Chronicles – Origins**

**Chapter: 02 – Monica's Story**

**Rating:** T

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

AN: Okay well, here we are again with this mess I call my favourite series of stories. I just thought I'd share them with you all. And my plea to you all still stands – please read my stories and let me know what you think. I can't improve as a writer if people don't tell me what I need to work on!

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

**Origins:**

**/\word/\**** - **Anna's speech

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

_**Chapter 2**_

_Thursday, July 17, 2008_

Up with the sun, as was the norm for her, Monica Caning had been a bundle of nerves all morning. This was the day she would meet the Neldeb brothers face-to-face for the first time in more than four years.

_God, has it really been that long?_

She raised her cup to her lips and took another sip of her tea as she tried in vain to read the newspaper over her breakfast. _Yeah,_ she mused sarcastically, _just another exciting day in Goose Bay…_ She snorted at the realization that the paper in her hand might as well have been written in Russian for all the news she was retaining. It seemed she was just too distracted to think of anything but the impending visit.

Sighing, Monica set her cup down and leaned back to stare up at the ceiling. _Well, can anyone blame me for being anxious? I mean, this wasn't exactly how I'd hoped to meet Zack after all these years. _Closing her eyes, she thought back on the happier times before she'd taken off from home and everything familiar.

It hadn't been an easy decision—and looking back it seemed to have been more than a little senseless too—but it had still been a lot easier than she had expected.

She'd first met Zack when she'd transferred to his school after her family had moved from Moose Jaw. Her grades from back home had been nothing short of stellar so the people in Ottawa had put her through a series of placement exams to "assess" her academic standing. Monica figured that was just a politically correct way of saying they wanted to make sure Cochrane High hadn't been some kind of hick-town school where students would pass if they could tie their own ties.

As if Regina was anything like a hick-town.

Not for the first time—far from it, actually—Monica actually found herself resenting the arrogant intellectuals who thought _national capital_ was some kind of lofty, untouchable peak for anyone from the _Prairies_.

When the dust had settled after Monica Caning's war with the placement tests, the administrators had been forced to relent and admit that perhaps the new girl might in fact be the second most intelligent student they'd enrolled in thirty years. She'd been registered into the eleventh grade that fall—a full year ahead of her peers. She had thought that first day would be a little awkward for her; the very idea of walking into a room filled with _real_ eleventh-grade students had made her insides twist anxiously.

Of course, that had been before she'd ever heard the name of _Zachary Neldeb_.

It was before she had met the living wonder that he was.

There were some who had called Monica "gifted" back home in Moose Jaw and Regina, but if they had ever met Zack, they'd have been hard-pressed to find a word for _him_. If the tall redhead was gifted—if her mind amounted to a paper airplane, then Zachary Neldeb's mind was about the most advanced spacecraft that could ever be conceived; immense, powerful, terribly sophisticated, and easy enough to imagine or design on paper or computer…but impossible to ever truly understand.

Zack had been skipped four years across his elementary and high school years, and he'd just been pushed ahead for the fourth time when he had met Monica.

She had never told Zack how relieved she was that he had been there first because her reasons hadn't been the most honourable or flattering in the world. Her coming to Nepean High School had been something not unlike introducing a three-eyed tiger to a circus that already had a cow with udders for a face – strange and out of the ordinary, yes, but far from the strangest thing the audience had seen. Monica had never thought the idea that she too had looked at Zack as a bit of a freak – at least at first – would be the most encouraging or endearing of admissions.

Especially after a year-and-a-half, when she'd looked back on their time together and made her decision to turn her back on everyone she knew and everything that was familiar. They had grown so much closer than she could ever have predicted when she'd first walked into homeroom that day six years ago…

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

**(((Flashback)))**

Rolling her shoulder uncomfortably under the right strap of her schoolbag, the fifteen year old redhead stared wide-eyed at the hardwood door like it was the very gateway into Hell.

The large hand on her other shoulder squeezed firmly – most likely an attempt to reassure her, but it still gave of the feeling of a prison warden escorting a convict to her doom rather than the friendly vice principal guiding the new student to homeroom.

"Don't worry, Ms Caning," the towering giant of a man smiled down at her from his intimidating height. "It's just like any other first day of school; there's nothing to be nervous about."

Monica swallowed uneasily as she continued her unending staring match with the classroom's door. Sure, she was smart enough to make it into grade eleven when she should still be a sophomore, but she could just imagine how much she'd stick out from her classmates. It was one thing to excel among her peers, but this – writing papers and exams a whole year ahead of herself… This was something else entirely, especially when everyone knew it.

She sighed under her breath, "That's easy for you to say – _you're _not going to be the youngest kid in that room."

Vice Principal McCroix chuckled good-naturedly at that, "Well, that's certainly true, young lady." He reached out to open the brown door in front of them. "But then again," he smiled widely, "neither are you."

Whatever he had meant by that last, almost cryptic comment Monica never had the chance to ask. As soon as she set foot in that classroom, her mind went numb and she became entrenched in her own thoughts. Thoughts of her life and friends from Moose Jaw – people whom her family had forced her to leave behind when they came to live here.

Before she knew it, she'd been introduced to the class of thirty-some-odd students and was now being invited to take her seat. There was only one left and it was in the back corner by the window, so Monica didn't have a clear view of her soon-to-be classmate.

Making her way between the neat, filled rows of desks, Monica abruptly realized that only a few people were paying any attention to her at all, much less gaping at her like she was some kind of freakish aberration, as had been her fear. Overall, there seemed to be a distinct lack of interest in her presence.

She found the reason for that sitting beside the one empty space in the room.

He was short, smaller than anyone in the classroom – probably no more than a metre-twenty. And he looked to be far beyond uninterested in what the professor was talking about at the front of the class.

"Hi," Monica settled down at her window-seat desk. "I'm Monica," she offered a hand.

He looked up at her from his distracted note-taking. Seeing the outstretched hand between them, he smiled after a moment and took it, shaking it just slightly up and down. He smiled quietly.

"Zachary Neldeb."

**(((End Flashback)))**

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

He was twelve.

Twelve freaking years old.

Zachary Neldeb had been twelve years old when they met…in the _eleventh_ grade. It still boggled her mind when she thought about it now, six years later.

Monica raised her tea to her lips once more and felt a smile come to her lips as she remembered the Calculus textbook that had been resting on the boy's desk that very first day. Pushed ahead four years and he was _still_ going further. He easily had the marks and knowledge to get into College or University, but it was perfectly understandable if he didn't want to be a twelve year old University Graduate.

Monica chuckled softly as she then remembered the first time she had gone to Zack for tutoring in Chemistry. She'd thought it was normal for her to be struggling but she relished the challenge. She hadn't wanted to go to her other classmates for help because she suspected she would get the typically arrogant dismissal and disregard of the real eleventh graders. _If you don't understand, why don't you go back down to where you belong, sophomore?_

She didn't need that.

But oh, what a sight it was – to walk into the classroom where she thought she would be meeting Zack and see half the class already there, quietly taking notes as the school's resident twelve-year old junior stood up front lecturing on the class they'd had not two hours earlier. That had been a day to remember. As it so happened, Zack had started tutoring for a couple of his classmates in his first year and teaching courses in a better and more understandable way than the actual teachers. But then the faculty had gotten wind of his "extracurricular" activities. Since then, he had started tutoring for the school in a whole slew of subjects under a written agreement from the administration. As long as he continued tutoring and his marks stayed above ninety for every course while keeping an average of ninety-five, the school board would cover the costs of all his school fees and even grant him a generous bursary on top of that. It was a very good deal for Zack but thanks to his own intelligence, the school board had only needed to shell out money for two years instead of four.

Still, Zack graduated from Nepean High School with a good deal of rainy day money saved up.

But strange circumstances had conspired to drive Monica into fleeing from everything she knew. At the onset of her independence, she had called it a journey of self-discovery, a quest to find herself. She'd found herself all right, but then she hadn't been able to picture herself going back home without losing the self-reliance she'd fought so hard to earn.

Well, to be honest, there was only one _real_ reason why she'd left and it had all centred around the sandy-haired boy three years her junior.

It was early spring of Senior year when it started; it was such a simple thing – a hug between friends. They had known each other for a year and a half by then and Zack had just been ushering her out of his house after a night of old, long since cancelled Sci-Fi shows. He hugged her as he always had when they parted ways, but in that instant, Monica's whole world had been transformed.

Visions had filled her head, blinding her mind's eye with their otherworldly feel, their inhuman clarity. Endless fields of flowing, roiling, frothing magma, towering spires and constructs of glass and steel…and a _presence_.

Monica felt the power and terrifying influence pass over her, like the gaze of some ancient, malevolent God. She had come very near to fainting dead away from its sheer intensity. She had seen claws that were sharp as the finest razor edge, wings as black as night, and eyes…eyes that glowed with an unsettling rage and possessiveness.

And she was there.

Monica had never seen herself in those visions, had never seen her own face, but she knew she was there—knew that these were more than the imaginings of an overactive mind. These were visions of a future…or some alternate reality or dimension at least. She couldn't explain how she knew what she had known back then—not even to herself—but she had never been so sure of anything in her life, not until the moment those visions had ended and she'd fled from Zack and his family as quickly as etiquette would allow.

And in just the same, unfathomable way that she knew she was seeing glimpses of what might be, Monica was wholly convinced that it was her increasingly growing friendship with Zack that was the cause for all of it. The very night she'd had those first visions, Monica had dreamt of a world beyond anything she'd ever imagined before. The details had faded after all these years, but she remembered the rush of adventure, the thrill of wondrous sights, and the pain and suffering of something worse…something dark and horrible that she had never truly seen or understood until that very night:

War.

A week later, Monica had started receiving acceptance letters from the Universities and Colleges to which she had applied. After a month, however, it became all too apparent that only one school wanted her to be there; all the others had rejected her applications for one reason or another.

Now Zack on the other hand, he'd had schools fighting and scrambling over each other for him, which came as no real surprise. Being one of the youngest high school graduates in the history of the province, if not the entire country, Zack's very presence at any school would be something they could brag about for years to come. Every school he had applied to had sent him acceptances and offers of admission, and even some to whom he'd never applied. Strangely enough, the University of British Columbia was the only school that held any of Zack's interest and, coincidentally and unknown to him, it was the only school that had sent Monica an offer at all.

That was the last straw for Monica.

She'd been having those dreams every night since the first one. Sometimes she remembered them, but oftentimes the memory would fade shortly after she woke. Every so often she would awaken in the middle of the night with a gasp and sleep would become an elusive thing, but she sometimes slept all the way through. The dreams weren't all bad, and Monica had come to appreciate those many that were actually exciting and kind of fun, but those were among the many that she could rarely remember.

So, knowing instinctively what her friendship with the boy genius had done to her previously peaceful and dream-free nights, and predicting what four more years would do to her sanity if she were attending the same University as him, Monica had made the most impulsive decision of her life the night of graduation.

She had fled.

It was rather simple really, the logic she'd used, quite _childish_ in fact. If she could get away from the source of her nightmares, she would get away from them. Unfortunately, the nightmares had never stopped in the four years since she had left home. The dreams and nightmares still plagued her mercilessly. They didn't come every night without fail anymore, but no week had gone by in four years without at least one or two dreams interrupting her sleep. The nightmares were growing less frequent too, but no less frightening or disturbing…

And now he was back.

Monica wasn't sure exactly how she felt about it exactly, but one thing she did know was that it would do no harm to reconnect with a good friend – her best friend – to catch up on the past four years and, most importantly, to apologize for vanishing without a trace so long ago. Now that the day was finally here, Monica found she really had missed the young Einstein.

A sharp knocking woke Monica from her thoughts and she shot a startled glance over to the clock to see that she'd been sitting at her kitchen table lost in contemplation for three hours, and she hadn't done a single thing to prepare for this reunion other than to pour herself a cup of tea and down about a third of it.

She stood and looked down at herself; she was still wearing her pyjamas for God's sake!

_Oh well, I guess I'll be meeting him with my morning self._ She brushed a lock of her crimson hair out of her eyes and combed her fingers through the rest of it in a crude but effective attempt to tame it. Then, she glanced down to make sure her clothes were all in order, or as close to it as humanly possible. She was wearing a white tank-top with one of her black undershirts beneath it and a pair of pale blue flannel pyjama bottoms. Her white socks were a little worn through and she could feel the cold of the polished wood floors chilling through her feet.

She made a mental knot to drive out to the Wal-Mart some time later to get a few more throw rugs to lie out on her icy floor. Jogging the half-dozen or so steps to her front door – her _only_ door actually – she slid the last few metres just as another loud bang sounded on the heavy barrier.

"I'm coming!" She called out. Man, Jim was still just as impatient as she remembered, never willing to wait those few extra seconds for anything to happen—especially the fun, exciting things like surprises. Monica stumbled over her own feet just before her entryway's steps, but caught herself with a hand on the wall.

Straightening up, she paused for a few moments before opening the door, listening to the voices on the other side. _It's really him…_ She had known this day was coming for the past two weeks, but for it to finally be here…well, that was something else entirely.

Her heart was beating a thousand beats a second and she found that words died in her throat as she mentally prepared for this reunion. Sighing and stilling her trembling hands with a force of will, she finally reached out to open the door, pulling it back to greet the boys from her past.

The wide, toothy smile on Jim's face was no surprise, and neither was his unkempt, wild appearance. He was dressed neatly enough in a casual pair of khakis and a buttoned short-sleeved short; Monica attributed the fact that he looked almost like a mature, young man to the tall Asian girl behind him. She assumed this was Belinda from Jim's description of his current girlfriend. _Although_, she thought, _"current might not be the best term to use. These two have been going out for a long time from what he's told me…__almost two years now. That's one thing I can see has changed about him. I remember he used to be such a wild heart-breaker back then._

Monica finally let her gaze slide to the left and fall to Zack where he stood gaping at her in shock. A small, nervous smile appeared on her face as she realized these were going to be the first words spoken between them in the four-plus years they had been apart and Monica had no idea at all if they were going to be joyful or anger-ridden. She'd take the anger if there was any to be had because she'd earned it by letting her best friend think she'd died or vanished off the face of the Earth.

But, looking at him now as he stared at her in astonished, speechless shock, she had a feeling she wouldn't be getting those angry words.

Zack fell back into Belinda, whose arms had already been waiting to catch the boy as he fainted.

Not for a while at least.

"Aw, dammit all to Hell!" Jim threw his hands up in the air and promptly turned to start banging his head on Monica's doorjamb. "Why me?"

Monica took another second to take in the sight of Zack slumped against the black-haired girl behind him, and then she stepped back from the door and motioned for her guests to enter. Belinda stepped inside after offering her hostess a look of relieved gratitude. "I take it you owe me some money, Jim?" She grinned over at the scowling man. "You should have known better than to bet against your brother's best friend."

Jim snorted, "Of course; it figures that you would know him better than I do – even after four years." He stepped through the door and slipped off his own shoes. "I really need to learn my lesson about gambling; my luck just stinks."

"I don't know," the redhead laughed quietly and closed the door behind him. "I kind of like your luck; it's very good for me."

"Yeah," the taller of the brothers pulled his wallet from his pocket, "You and every other person in the world. I just lost eighty bucks in less than a minute."

Monica laughed at that, running one hand through her hair again and further taming her unruly blood-red tresses. "You bet against your girlfriend? What was it?"

Jim waved her off casually, "Bah, she just wanted to bet that Zack would faint." He slipped a handful of bills out of his wallet. "Here you go," he offered it to the redhead. "He figured it out before you opened the door, so here's sixty bucks."

Monica eagerly accepted the money and tucked it into her pocket. "I can't believe you actually accepted that bet."

"Yeah well," he shrugged. "I didn't really think he'd get it. I mean, I was so damn close – you should have seen it…we were standing in your driveway and he didn't have a clue." He scowled, "and then he had to start asking questions."

Monica smirked, "and let me guess, you couldn't keep your story straight."

"Yeah," He nodded as he took in her appearance for the first time. "Wow," he smiled, "I like this whole back-to-nature look you've got going – it's very, uh," he pretended to search for the right word, "_W__ild_." He glanced around just in time to dodge a light slap from Belinda just as she was returning from depositing Zack on the couch. "_Whoa_, Bel—cool it!" Her response was a muttered string of words in Japanese. Jim made a face, "rude," he turned to Monica, "She thought I was hitting on you."

Monica waved him off. "Cad," she started walking deeper into her basement apartment, descending a few steps into a big, single room area that had been divided with light curtains into four or five different areas. "Welcome to Happy Valley – Jim, Belinda…Zack." She nodded to the still form on her white couch. "Make yourselves at home while I take a shower."

Grinning dangerously, Jim glanced surreptitiously at the only walled-in room in the apartment – her small but adequate bathroom. "You, uh…need any help?"

Monica was just reaching into her drawer for some clothes when she heard the slap behind her, accompanied by an increasingly familiar chain of Japanese phrases. "I guess some things _don't_ change with time, Jim." She strode into the bathroom, "you're still an idiot."

She closed the door on him and his incensed girlfriend."

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

By the time Monica emerged from the bathroom, Zack was sitting up on the couch with a steaming mug held in both hands. He was glancing around curiously at the cozy setup of furniture and shelves of books with a slight frown on his face. Belinda was leaned back against the end of the couch with her legs tucked under her and a similar mug cradled in her hands. Her eyes were closed lightly and she was muttering quietly to herself in Japanese, seemingly oblivious to anything outside her own body and mind.

Jim on the other hand had brought a little of his own personal brand of chaos into the otherwise peaceful scene. He was standing beside the small, oval dining table with an already half-eaten bagel in one hand and an unopened envelope in the other. He was showering crumbs all over the floor from the corner of his mouth as he read the address on the plain white envelope.

Monica wasted no time marching up to the taller boy and swatting him upside the head. "Why are you going through my mail, Jim?"

Jim's answer was to shoot a sharp look at the young woman. "Who's Wingnuts and why would they be sending mail to you?"

"Not that it's any of your business," she snatched the letter from his hand in a deft, swift motion, "but it's actually being sent _to_ _Wingnuts_ – it's my company." She slit the envelope open and tipped its contents into her hand.

"Your company, huh?" Jim swallowed the last of his bagel and sat down at the table. "What do you do?"

Monica set the letter aside so she could read it later. "Well, anything that involves needing a small plane to carry passengers or cargo."

Jim's eyes widened and he glanced pointedly at Zack. "You're a pilot?"

"Yeah," Monica followed his gaze to see the youngest brother drink down the last of his tea and place the mug down on the table. "I got my private licence a little over two years ago when I moved here. It started pretty small, but I don't have all that many expenses aside from my plane and the rent, so I feel I've been doing pretty well."

Zack gave a tiny, little smile at that. "You always were the best if you put your mind and heart into it."

Monica coughed nervously and looked away, "You were always a good step or two ahead of me, Zack. I don't think I ever came close to your pedestal."

The sandy-haired young man shook his head slowly, his smile unshaken. "No, you were beyond me – I had a little help." He focused his gaze on the ruby-haired girl beside him. "You got through Nepean all on your own."

"What?" Monica stared at him in disbelief. "I got tutoring from you – who did _you_ need help from?"

He shrugged, "Nobody; I was just…born different." He grinned suddenly, "But you – I may have tutored you, but I didn't carry you through High School, and I sure as heck didn't carry you through the four years you've been making a life for yourself." He paused, looking around slowly, "I'm impressed."

Monica turned away again. "I had a good reason for leaving," she confessed. "At the time, it seemed so much like the right thing to do."

Zack nodded, his eyes showing a small amount of understanding. "I'm sure it did."

Jim cleared his throat quietly and reached over to nudge Belinda gently on her shoulder, waking her from her thoughtful daze. "That's our cue, Bel." He glanced between Zack and Monica. "We'll see you two crazies later on this afternoon."

The younger boy looked up at his brother, "later? It's been just as long since you've seen each other – why are you running off?"

Jim grinned lopsidedly, "Because, _Theodore_, I think you two need some time alone to sort yourselves out. Monica and me have been passing emails to each other for the better part of a year now, so Bel and I'll just head on over to drop the computers off." He looked over at Monica, "You're office still in the same place?" He smiled roguishly at the tall redhead.

Monica nodded once, "Yeah – just tell Brett that I sent you and he'll let you into the airport grounds."

Jim wrinkled his nose, "The airport's closed?"

"We're a small town, Jim." Monica rolled her eyes, "There are no flights scheduled in or out today, so they close the airport as much as they're allowed."

It was obvious Jim was biting his tongue to keep from blurting out a smart remark about small towns, but Belinda saved him by grabbing his arm and depositing her empty mug on the table. "We're leaving, James."

"But – okay," Jim found himself being pulled easily to the front door. "See you guys later," he called out, "it was nice seeing you Monica," Belinda opened the door and shoved her boyfriend through before following him out. "You're looking good!" He squeezed out before Belinda closed the door – cutting him off.

_Well_, Monica thought, _now it's just you and I, Zack_.

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

For a few long, silent minutes, the two gifted graduates just remained where they were, frozen in place and lost in their own thoughts.

Monica moved slowly over to the abandoned teapot and poured herself a mug before returning to the couch and taking a seat beside her best friend. "You know," she finally broke the awkward but relaxed silence. "I must have started a thousand emails and letters to you since I left Ottawa."

Zack nodded slowly, numbly. "I think I can imagine how difficult that would have been." He glanced over at the redhead beside him as she cautiously sipped her tea. "You seem to have done well for yourself."

Monica smiled thinly, still unsure about the state of their friendship after all this time, "Yeah – it's been fun. I don't really see myself doing anything anywhere else for a long time." She took another slow sip, "It's quiet, the people are very nice…I could have crashed in a much worse place." She shrugged at Zack's curious half-smile, elaborating no further.

Zack nodded slowly and for a few minutes, neither he nor Monica could bring themselves to break the comfortable silence that fell over them. They were both content to navigate the labyrinth of their own thoughts and memories while taking occasional sips from their mugs.

But only for so long.

Zack's slow, contemplative voice shattered the peaceful bubble surrounding them, "Monica…why _did_ you leave?"

The older girl snorted mirthlessly, "Would you believe it was because of you?"

His only initial response was a mildly surprised arching of his eyebrows, "Me—really? I'd need some kind of context to see what you mean."

The redhead smiled a little less glumly, "Yeah – I suppose you would." She took a breath to gather her thoughts together and realized once again how lame her reasons for leaving had been. "Well, the short story is that being your friend was making me have really weird dreams. I was losing a lot of sleep and they really shook me, so I decided I needed to get away." She chanced meeting her friend's brown-eyed gaze. "I'm sorry, Zack," she offered in a whisper. _So lame…_

He nodded slowly, taking in what little she had said, using his ninety-nine percentile mind to piece it all together. "It may have been an impulsive, irrational decision," he looked at her calmly and smiled at her, "but I understand. I might have done the same in your position."

Releasing a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, Monica tilted her head to one side. "That's it? I disappear from your life for four years without so much as a phone call and all I get is you 'understand'?" She chuckled quietly, relaxing finally after all the tension she had been under since letting him into her home. "Of course it is," she smiled warmly at him. "I should have known I was working myself up over nothing; you're the most forgiving guy I know."

"What's to forgive?" Zack shrugged, "Okay, at first I admit I was really worried. I was actually waiting for your parents to report you missing or for your body to turn up somewhere." He responded to Monica's surprised giggle with a quiet snort, "Yeah – I know. Anyway, when you didn't show up anywhere, I figured something happened and you had to get away for a while." He tilted his own head and grew pensive, "Never in my wildest imaginings would I have thought it was because of me, though. And _dreams_…" He tapped a thumb on his chin. "I must admit, you've got me intrigued – would you care to share what your dreams were?"

Monica coughed nervously. "I owe you that much at the very least." She sat back, bringing her tea mug with her to be cradled in her hands. "They started in the spring of our graduation year and they haven't really stopped since. I just…dream."

"About what?" Zack sat forward, his interest more than obvious.

"What do I dream about?" Monica sighed. "Oh, what _don't _I dream about?" She shook her head and took a short sip from her tea. "Well," she looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "I can't remember the details for more than a couple days, but I remember seeing places I've never been to, things I've never even seen in pictures but they were so vivid in my mind. The dreams have rarely been the same and they come in all kinds. I've had some that have woken me up in a cold sweat and scrambling for the lights, but there have been just as many that have left me floating on clouds and feeling so wonderful," she wrapped her free arm around herself, a small, fond smile lighting her features. But then her smile faded, "and there have also been a few that have woken me up in tears and mourning for friends and family I don't even know."

Zack sat back again, "Wow—that sounds…" His voice was quiet and distant as he stared off into space.

"What," Monica interrupted him as he trailed off, "Crazy—insane?"

Zack smiled, "I was going to say familiar, actually, but your explanation works too." He laughed at Monica's odd, confused look and elaborated a few seconds later. "I've had those dreams too—for as long as I can remember." He grinned eagerly at the redhead. "They seem so real, don't they?"

Monica snorted but felt a small smile touch her lips. "You're just mocking me."

"I would never," he denied confidently. "I promise it's true. I think it's possible that you were having similar dreams to the ones I've always had." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "I don't know what _my_ dreams would be doing in your head though, especially since they're still running around in mine. They're the very basis of a lot of my ideas, you know. Hey," he snapped his fingers, "Maybe I can sue you for invasion of privacy…"

Unable to keep the smile from her face, Monica considered pressing her argument, but then she realized how useless such a course would be. "Okay, I believe you," Zack was many things, but he wasn't a liar. She thought about it a little more and found herself just as interested in her best friend's dreams as he was in hers. _But, I started this, so…_ "So when you say similar, do you mean you've dreamt of fields of flowing lava?"

Zack chuckled quietly at that one. "Yeah, I remember that one. First time I woke up from that dream, I just about drank our plumbing dry. My face felt like it had been on fire and I even thought I could smell the heat. My parents must have thought I'd lost my mind."

"It certainly wouldn't have helped you with them," she agreed, nodding her head slowly as she recalled her own dreams of that charred, barren landscape. "I didn't go for quite that much water, but I know what you mean; it was pretty intense."

Zack's quiet laughter eased and he gestured at the teapot with his mug. "May I?"

"Of course," Monica smiled quietly as he stood and walked over to the pot, filling his mug most of the way before coming up empty. "You can go ahead and put on another pot too, I think we're both going to want more." She added the last with a knowing grin at Zack's back.

When he turned to face her a moment later after setting the kettle, she was pleased to see a similar expression on his face. "Yes, I remember we did drink a lot of tea didn't we?"

Monica raised her half-full mug in salute, "And I still do love the stuff."

Zack chuckled, "'Down with coffee'?" He quoted a phrase she'd jokingly used quite often when they went out to a have a drink together back in High School. He shook his head, amused, "alright then," he came back with his tea in hand. "So, what do you want to talk about now? We have quite a bit of catching up to do."

"Yeah, we do." Monica took a slow sip of her tea. "Jim told me you graduated from Queens; congratulations."

"That was two years ago," Zack stared down into the swirling liquid in his mug. "I guess I wasn't _quite_ finished advancing beyond my peers." He chuckled quietly.

Monica laughed too, the sound ringing in Zack's ears and bringing memories back to him in droves. "You graduated five years ahead of anyone your age?" She shook her head at his answering nod, "Only you could take overachieving to a whole new level." She sobered a little and regarded her friend seriously. "I always wondered, though, why Queens? You were all excited and ready to go out to B.C."

"Well," Zack set his mug down on the coffee table. "I don't know really. For a few months after you'd left, I just lost the will to motivate myself; I was ready to just confirm to any school, and Queens had offered me a pretty sweet deal."

"From what I remember, you _never_ cared about deals." Monica frowned at the thought of what she had done to her best friend. "Besides, I think Algonquin College had offered you a better deal." She thought about the tremendous bursary offer that had come in the mail for Zack. She'd been shocked that he wouldn't take it. Algonquin had pretty much offered to set Zack up for life in terms of his…"extracurricular" hobbies. "So," she smirked knowingly, "Just a few months?"

"Okay, seven," Zack amended his previous claim. "I came within a hair's breadth of failing a course; I haven't done that since elementary school."

"Which was what," Monica grinned, "Three years ago?"

Zack chuckled along with her at that. "Ha, you're so funny…" He swirled his tea in his cup a little. "Besides, in the end I didn't quite see the point of moving all the way out west when I could do just as well back home." He glanced over at Monica, "I'm sure you and I would have made quite a team out there, though."

Monica sat back quickly, stricken by the off-hand, subtle accusation. "Oh—God Zack, I am so sorry…"

He waved it away. "Don't worry about it," he smiled warmly at her. "I did well enough at Queens."

The tall redhead copied his smile, breathing a relieved sigh, "Yeah—I'll bet you did; top of your class too I'll bet."

"Not by too much," He replied coolly, "Still," he took another sip of his tea. "I'd forgive you in a heartbeat if that's really what you need to hear."

"Thank you," Monica looked around quietly, searching for a way to change the subject. They drank their tea in silence for several minutes before her eyes fell on his large, grey messenger bag and her voice finally disturbed the easy silence hanging between them. "Say, do you still have that awesome gaming AI you built?"

"What, Anna?" He followed her gaze to the corner of his laptop, visible through the parted gap of his satchel's partially open zipper. "Yeah, she's still around; she's gone through a lot of changes since you last saw her."

Monica raised one thin eyebrow and regarded her friend seriously—surprised. "Did you just say 'Anna'? You gave it a name?"

Zack smiled and shrugged, "'It', uh, asked for a name, actually."

"Are you serious?" A smile split the redhead's face on one side. "I'll bet Jim was thrilled when he found out."

"No, he wasn't," Zack agreed, "He just about blew his brain stem. I'm sure he's waiting for an excuse to take an axe to my computer and get rid of her. I think he's afraid she's biding her time before she rises up and conquers the Internet or something."

Monica laughed quietly at that, "Oh, right—he's probably just sore because he lost a game to her."

Zack found her mood infectious and was soon laughing with her. "I should get her to play against him once—just to see how well he'd do. Who knows? With all the games he plays in his spare time, it might be a better test than challenging her skills on my own." He snorted once and turned to take a slow drink from his tea. "Speaking of losing though, how much money did you manage to get from him for this bet?"

Monica chuckled quietly, "I got sixty dollars for you figuring it out before I opened the door, but Belinda got twenty for saying you'd faint."

"What?" Zack glanced over at the door through which Jim and Belinda had departed. "Jim took a bet against his own girlfriend?" he thought about it for a moment before shrugging casually. "That's so very like him."

"I know," the redhead smiled thinly and stood to take care of preparing another pot of tea. "Does it—does _she_ remember me?" She glanced over at the partially opened satchel lying across the room.

Zack followed her gaze to the resting place of his laptop and felt a smile spread across his face. "She asks about you every once in a while—if I've heard from you, do I have any theories about where you might have gone, do I think about you still…you get the idea."

Monica canted her head to one side, "Really? I didn't realize I'd left such an impression on her." She paused for a moment and then came back to sit at the couch. "Wow, your computer program's a 'she'…my goodness, Zack—do you have any idea what you've done, what kind of advance this means for the world's technology?"

Zack grinned, "Yeah I know what I've done; too bad it would take another ten years to repeat the success. I've tried to figure it out, I really have," he gestured to the idling laptop with a sweep of his hand. "I still don't know what it was I did right or wrong and nothing spectacular happened to cause her to start growing. She just…started growing—from the moment I first expanded her beyond gaming AI, she's always been something just a few millimetres beyond my understanding." He shook his head slowly. "I know what she is, I know who she is, and I know how she works, but I can't for the life of me understand _why_ she works."

A slow smile appeared on Monica's face. "Has her gaming improved?"

Zack favoured her with a knowing grin, "Oh, you want to go a few rounds with her, do you?" He chuckled quietly. "She'll give you more of a challenge than you remember, that's for sure, but I'm sure you could still beat her."

"Does she have a new favourite game?"

Zack laughed again, "Hardly; you'd think after ten years a computer would be logical enough to deem that game obsolete, but that's just another one of her many quirks. It makes her seem almost nostalgic."

"Oh," Monica fell back against the couch cushions with a quiet sigh. "I haven't played Starcraft in _years_." She smiled almost wistfully, "I still remember some of the games we played against each other. You never made it easy to beat you."

Zack leaned forward and moved his gaze from his satchel to his best friend. "Well, it's about time we joined forces then, isn't it?" He turned to wink playfully at Monica, "What do you say—us against her?"

Monica laughed, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "It'll be a challenge for her." She stood and stretched. "Oh, what the hey – you're on." She filled her mug once again and carried it over to the far corner of the room, sweeping back one of the hanging sheets and tying it up with a sash from the ceiling to reveal a simple, fold-away desk with a relatively new-looking desktop computer seated peacefully in its aluminium cradle. "Besides, I've got a strategy I've always wanted to try."

Zack raised his eyebrows, grinning widely as he pulled his laptop from his satchel. "Oh? Do tell." Setting it down on the coffee table, he opened up the message box and started typing, interrupting the storm of activity that had taken over his computer. "Anna—do you think you can multitask?"

The blur of motion in the background slowed to a virtual crawl, giving Zack the chance to actually see what his protégé was up to.

A half-assembled face dominated the centre of the window, one eye painted a shimmering hue of indigo and the other a calm, tranquil blue. A long slender nose was replaced before Zack's eyes with a shorter, cuter button nose. Currently, Anna had the blonde hair cut short with thick, dark chocolate streaks running through its wavy, wild length, but Zack was pretty sure that feature would change to something else before long.

**Yes, I can multitask; what do you have in mind?** The Blue words appeared all at once underneath the words Zack had typed only moments earlier.

"Hey Monica," Zack turned away from the still screen and spoke up to his hostess. "Should I tell her who you are? She'll be excited to meet you again after so long."

The redhead laughed lightly at that. "You think your computer gets excited?" She turned in her chair to smile her amusement at the younger man, "Like, it has actual feelings?"

Zack hesitated. "Well—I'm not sure really." He shrugged after a moment's thought, "she's still growing I think. It'll probably be a while before I can definitively say that she has any spark of life in her, but she seems to be having more frequent moments of humanity."

"That so?" She smiled thinly as the blond boy said that. "No, I think we should leave my identity a secret for now. Your computer will meet me again soon enough."

"Alright," Zack turned back to the laptop in front of him. "It turns out Jim's friend here is a real gaming fiend, and when they heard about you they wanted to play a game right away."

**They want to play a game against me? **

"Actually," he typed, "They want to play a game with me and against you."

**That sounds like a good challenge.**

"Hey Zack," Monica's voice came from behind him. "Exactly what did you mean when you said it's grown a lot since I last saw it?"

Zack suppressed a quiet sigh. It was amazing how quickly something as simple as a name changed his entire perception of his computer program. Monica hadn't been around to see the ongoing process that Anna had gone through. But, he was sure she would see his creation for what it was if she had as open a mind as she had back when they were going to school together. "Well, she's got her own hard drive now," he reached over and touched his fingers to the long, wide, enclosed component that he'd strapped to the side of his laptop, connected to the inner workings of his computer by two Universal Serial Bus Ports. "I've given her control over several different programs since we've seen each other. She's gotten the hang of reprogramming certain applications, like her own data compression software."

He heard his older friend clicking her mouse. "So, how much memory are we talking about here?"

Zack turned and smiled at Monica, feeling a twinge of pride for his protégé. "Her core memory and long-term files are taking up about eighty gigs." His smile only grew when he heard the redhead's choked-off gasp. "Plus, she's got an additional ten set aside for uncompressed data and files."

"Wow," Monica breathed, "You've been busy."

Zack smirked. "Well, it _has_ been four years."

"Right," She laughed softly as the room descended into silence for a few long minutes. Finally, her voice carried over to Zack once again, "Okay, I'm online."

Zack didn't reply, "So," he typed instead. "Are you ready to play?"

Minimizing her project window, Anna's reply appeared in the text window. **Jim's friend underestimates me. **

"Do they now?" The genius glanced over his shoulder at Monica, whose back was turned to him as she finished setting herself up. "I think you might be surprised."

**I very much doubt that. **

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

"That was pretty fun Zack. Thanks."

"No problem." Zack could still see Anna's defences crumbling under the onslaught of their combined fleet of Carriers. Technically, they'd actually all belonged to Zack, but Monica had built them all.

Through Zack's use of his Race's readily available mind control units and an exorbitant amount of resources on Monica's part, they were able to overcome the already high unit cap of the game and assemble a veritable armada of over a hundred of some of the most devastating units in the game.

Anna's multiple bases had stood strong for quite a long time, but the sheer power involved in the two friends' assault could not be stopped by a few missile launchers. Even Anna's most powerful units could only slow the attack. The computer's last words before defeat had been an admission that yes, Jim's friend was indeed a more than competent gamer.

Of course, Zack hadn't been prepared for what he'd find when he closed the game down.

It seemed that Anna had found her face.

There, pacing along the system tray of his laptop's desktop display was a five-centimetre tall girl animated in two dimensions with her new software. She had long black hair to where her shoulder blades would be, with a long-sleeved blue sweater and a pair of blue jeans hanging loosely off her hips down to a set of plain white shoes. The new girl's face showed a moderate amount of youth – maybe twelve or fourteen years. It was a small, round oval of light rosy skin with a slight point to her chin and a set of thin, dark red lips. She had a tiny, cute nose that gave her the look of a pixie, which was bracketed on either side by a matching pair of green eyes that were quite unnaturally bright. They were the only thing that really classified the animated girl as anything other than human. Well, that and the fact she only had two dimensions.

"What the heck?" Zack felt the couch sink to his left as Monica took a seat beside him, staring astounded at the flat screen before her, "_That's _Anna?"

Zack glanced over, "Yeah. She's grown a lot in four years, hasn't she?"

Monica smiled tensely, "You're telling me." She studied her friend seriously. "Do you know what you're doing?"

The sandy-haired boy shrugged. "Not really; I'm just letting her grow at a gradual enough rate that she won't overload and become homicidal…I hope."

Bright blue eyes couldn't help but laugh at her friend. "Well, I'm sure you're doing your best, but if your gaming program brings about Armageddon I'll be just a little disappointed."

"And I'd hate to disappoint anyone," Zack smiled, moving the mouse over to open up Anna's message box. "Especially you." He didn't need to look over at his crimson haired friend to know she was wide-eyed with surprise at his remark. "So," he typed into the message box. "I can see you've made your decision, Anna."

The girl stopped pacing across his screen and turned to look at the open box as if she was reading Zack's words, but he was pretty sure it was only for show. **I am as surprised as you that I completed my self-image so quickly.**

Zack smiled and reached into his satchel, withdrawing yet another disk stuffed full with information. Setting it on the table, he returned one hand to the keyboard as he twirled the disk case between his free fingers. "Well, what do you think the reason for that is?"

**I do not know.** Anna's animation shrugged in what appeared to be a cautious way. **Perhaps it was simply a coincidence and I happened upon the right combination of facial traits by accident. In any case, I am ready to begin cutting back my memory in order to return it to its original state.** The young girl began to pace left and right across the system tray once again. **I have no need for that much memory any longer.**

"Very well," Zack continued typing, ever aware of the pair of blue eyes watching him curiously. "I'll check in on your memory consumption tomorrow. Until then, I'll trust you to clean it up yourself."

**Thank you for the birthday gift. **

Monica turned to speak to Zack, "'Birthday'?"

He smiled slightly, "Ten years, Monica."

She smiled too, "when?"

"Two days ago." He leaned back on the couch to think back through the drive up to Labrador. "She's been working since then to find a face for herself."

"Really?" Monica leaned back and looked from her friend to his artificial apprentice. "What keeps her from being able to change her face? Can she put on a mask?"

"I told her," Zack gestured to the computer with one hand, "the first complete, full-body, human image that she saved to her memory would embed itself in her primary code as a permanent self-image." A small, secretive grin grew into his face. "She'll learn about masks soon enough, either from me or on her own. Remember, Monica – baby steps."

"Wow," she stared up at the ceiling for a few heartbeats, "ten years. Has it really been six years that we've known each other?"

Zack nodded. "Do," he spoke after a few moments of that comfortable silence. "Do you want to talk to her?"

Monica smiled thinly. "Yeah, it's been a really long time; who knows? Maybe your program missed me…" She added this last part with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. She motioned to the silent laptop with one hand, "May I?"

"Of course," Zack slid the computer over into her reach. "It'll do her some good to talk to someone else."

"Cool," she sat forward and set her fingers on the keyboard. "Hello, Anna – it's been a while."

There was a long pause before Anna's reply appeared. **Who is this? **

The redhead smiled quietly. "It's Monica."

The little girl's green eyes widened in shock and she shot the message box an astonished look. **Monica Caning? **

"Is there any other?" Monica's smile grew just a little as a wide, exaggerated and unnatural grin spread across Anna's face. She turned to Zack, "You're program needs to work on her facial expressions."

"She's only had a face for half-an-hour, Monica; give her a break." Zack laughed a little when his friend's response was to blow a raspberry at him, "Oh, real mature."

"Of course it is," she retorted. "Once you're my age, you'll understand."

The boy genius snorted, "Yeah—I can't wait."

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

"Well, how are you kids making out?"

Monica stepped out of the way as Jim swept into her basement apartment. Belinda followed quietly behind, the picture of a silent sentinel…always watching and ready to act. That was one thing the redhead had been able to see. Belinda spoke little, but Monica was beginning to see that the older girl spoke far louder with her actions than with her mouth.

"We're making out fine, Jim." Zack sat back from his laptop. "Monica and I were just sharing philosophy with Anna."

Jim made a small, thoughtful noise, "Oh? Plotting Ragnarok with our friend the fake brain?" He planted himself down on the couch beside his brother, rapping his fingers on the side of Zack's laptop. "She spilled the beans on her evil schemes yet?"

Zack stared at his brother, brown eyes twinkling with amusement. "My Jim, those are some big words you've learned. I'm impressed."

"Hey," Jim recoiled, embarrassed. "I watch Stargate, alright?"

Monica burst out laughing as she followed Belinda into the open-room basement. "Stargate? That show was so _fake_."

Jim nodded his head at the computer on the table, pointedly ignoring Monica's comment. "What's going on here?"

"What, that?" Zack pointed at the small grey ball attached to his laptop by a thin wire. "It's a microphone, Jim."

"Yeah," Monica giggled, "People usually talk into them."

Jim scowled from one friend to the other, "Smartasses, the both of you." He looked to Belinda for backup but only received a calm, indifferent stare from cool, dark brown eyes. "Traitor," he turned back to his smiling brother, "So…who're you talking to?"

The younger brother rolled his eyes. "Anna—weren't you listening?"

Jim shrugged sheepishly, tossing his far-too-long hair out of his eyes. "I thought you had to type to talk to it."

Zack returned the shrug. "It was a birthday gift…one of them anyway."

The brilliant green eyes of the girl in the lower right corner of the screen just lit up with what Monica assumed was supposed to be excitement. **You mean there is more?** The words appeared silently in the message window.

Jim's eyebrow quirked up at that.

"Now Anna, don't be greedy." Zack chided the program quietly. "You have to make sure that you're comfortable with one ability before you can try to master another."

**I think I am ready. **

"Then give it a couple more days, Anna. I left the disk at home, so you'll have to wait anyways." The smile on Zack's face was calm, relaxed. "You'll find out what it is in due time."

**Very well.** The animation went back to pacing along the system tray. **You may keep your secrets.**

"I don't get it," Jim scratched his head lightly. "You gave it the ability to hear, but why not the ability to speak?"

Zack shrugged and just gestured to a small, innocent looking icon in the lower right corner. "The only real means I have to shut her down if she becomes a danger to anyone is activated with a verbal command."

Jim followed Zack's finger to the curiously-shaped icon. It closely resembled a tiny little explosive remote detonator with the little handle-and-box setup. "So that's the only way you could stop it?"

Zack sat forward and started shutting down his computer while making sure to stay away from the innocuous little icon, "Short of physically removing her programming from my hard drive and wiping her from existence, yes. I can always talk to her too; see if I can convince her to stop whatever she's doing." He closed the laptop and slid it back into his satchel. "She can actually be quite reasonable, if a little flawed."

Jim snorted derisively, "of course it's flawed—it's a computer program. Ones and Zeros don't think." He stood and grinned down at his brother, "Well, it's been real," he glanced over to their hostess, "But we've really got to start heading back."

"Alright," Zack stood too and threw his bag's strap over his shoulder. "I'm ready to go."

Jim waved the younger blond off. "Sit back down, Zack. You're not going anywhere."

"What?" Zack lowered himself back to the couch and looked up at Jim, one eyebrow raised inquiringly. "What are you talking about? How am I supposed to get home? I have work next week."

"No you don't." Jim grinned. "I made a deal with Charlie. I was able to get you an extra week off for personal reasons."

"'Personal reasons'?" Zack stood once again and fixed a sceptical and suspicious look on the taller man. "Just what did you tell him?"

Jim's face became unconvincingly innocent, his eyes shining with mirth. "Oh, I just told him I was taking you to meet an old girlfriend you hadn't seen in four years." He stepped back quickly, raising his hands defensively. "He's the one who said to take the two weeks. I think he's got something planned for you when you get back."

"Girlfriend, huh?" Monica levelled an amused glare at her guests – Zack in particular. "Just what have you told everyone back home, Zack?"

The boy genius sighed, glaring ineffectually at his brother, "Nothing really. Home is Montreal, now, and all they know is I haven't seen my best friend in years."

"Oh." The subject of Zack's change of address hadn't come up until now. "When did you move?"

"A little under three months now," Zack winced a little as he thought about his cot back home. Belinda and Jim had been living together for the better part of three years now and they were still sharing separate bedrooms, limiting the space Zack had to live in. The way they had that apartment set up though…it really wasn't meant for three people. The cot was okay, but after two and a half months, Zack was starting to miss the bed he'd had in Ottawa.

Not that he missed the _house_ in Ottawa.

"So, your parents finally let you out of the nest?" Monica took a seat in a chair nearby, motioning for Belinda to join them and abandon her post by the door.

"You could say that," Zack gave another sigh. "You could also say I was kind of thrown out of the nest."

"Oh no," Monica frowned sympathetically, "What happened?"

Zack laughed humourlessly, "I guess they got sick of having a slacker and a freak for sons."

"Freak?" Monica tilted her head to one side. "What does that mean? How are you a freak?"

"Hello? Sixteen-year-old university graduate here," Zack waved one hand, "plus there's that—other thing." He and Jim shared a peculiar look.

Monica looked between the two brothers curiously. "What is it?"

Jim pointed casually with his thumb. "Zack's a schizo."

"I am not," the younger boy slapped him on the shoulder. "I'm psychic."

"Yeah—you keep saying that, little brother." Jim rubbed his shoulder lightly, "Maybe someday someone will believe you, _schizo_."

Monica smiled at the brotherly bickering; leaning back to relax in her chair as she considered what had just been said. A psychic? It sounded crazy, it sounded weird…

But, considering the dreams she'd been having for the last five years of her life…

It also sounded possible.

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

"So, where were we?"

Monica looked over at Zack from the kitchen, setting the teapot down as her friend closed the door behind Jim and Belinda. "Well, you put Anna to sleep, so it's just you and me now." She picked up the tray and started carrying it towards the door where Zack stood. "Tell me, what else is new with your life?"

Zack took a few moments to reply, watching instead as the redhead swung a left when she reached him and moved to the stairs that led up from the basement into the house. "Where are you going?"

She paused at the top of the stairs to bump open the door with her hip. "I'm taking our tea out onto the back deck. Why?" She continued on through the door and higher up the stairs.

"The people you're renting from," he followed carefully behind. "Won't they mind that you're walking through their house?"

"Maybe," she replied, "But I doubt it. The Crosslings are very nice people. Fiona's invited me in for tea from time to time, and Mr Crossling helps me fix my car." Monica turned at the top of the stairs to walk through a carpeted living room with a fireplace. "They've opened their home to me whenever I needed help with something and they've been the most understanding landlords when I've been unable to pay my rent on time."

"They sound like great people," Zack followed quietly, "Where are they—work?"

"No," Monica walked through a kitchen larger and better equipped than hers to stop by the wide sliding glass door. "Honduras. They were meeting up with a group from a church close to Montreal to help rebuild in a small community down there."

"A mission?" Zack moved up to open the door. "That's cool."

"Yeah, they've been gone a week now, and I'm house-sitting for them until they get back." Monica took a seat in one of the chairs tucked around the beige, glass-topped patio table. Setting the tray down, she poured out two cups of the steaming drink, motioning for Zack to join her. "And while they're gone, my contract is suspended."

Zack paused with his cup halfway to his lips, "What?"

Monica smiled thinly, "This isn't the first time I've had to take care of their house, you know. They go out on missions about four times a year, almost always to Central America. And, whenever they're gone, I don't have to pay rent. All they ask is that I take care of things here and replace anything I use up."

"How long are they gone for?" Zack looked around the unfenced backyard.

Monica tested the temperature and strength of her tea with a tiny sip as she thought about it. "It'll be another…two weeks before they fly back." She nodded her satisfaction with the drink in her mug, "I'm hoping they'll have some good stories to tell."

"You're right," Zack set his cup down on the table. "They do sound like very reasonable people." He smiled ruefully, "of course, it probably helps that you're you."

Monica grinned, "And just what are you implying?"

Zack simply shrugged, "Nothing insulting, I assure you—I only meant that you're a loyal and honest person. You inspire the same in others and that's a very rare quality in this day and age."

The redhead blushed faintly and sipped her tea to try and hide it. "Thank you," she replied quietly before lapsing into a thoughtful silence.

They sat together like that for a long time, both wandering the pathways of their thoughts as they considered the years that had gone behind them, the way things now stood, and the vast unknown that lay before them, stretching inexorably onward to the future.

It was Monica's smooth and flowing voice that finally pierced the silence. "Zack? About what you said earlier…"

The blond boy looked up quickly, startled out of his thoughts, "yeah—what about it?"

"Are you," she paused, unsure that she really wanted to know the answer. "Are you really psychic?"

He sat back and studied her face seriously as his smile slowly melted away, "Well," he finally answered, "That all kind of depends."

Monica tilted her head to one side, "on what exactly?"

He shrugged as though stating the obvious, "on whether you believe my dreams are anything other than that." He smiled slightly at the curious little smirk on his old friend's face. "Sometimes I hear voices in my dreams, and I can at times actually sense a…a presence of some kind." He shook his head suddenly, "It's kind of hard to explain."

"Try me," Monica set her cup down. "So what – can you see the future?" A wide smile split her tanned, blue-eyed face.

"Oh, it's not like that, that's for sure. " The two reunited friends shared a quiet laugh at that before Zack grew serious once again. "There are certain degrees of psychic potential, but I'm reasonably certain I'm telepathic at the very least."

"Really?" Monica raised her eyebrows, intrigued, "so can you sense what I'm thinking?"

Zack laughed and shook his head, "no – I'm pretty sure my potential is severely limited at best. I think I'd need another Telepath who has more experience than me to focus my power. Good thing too – I wouldn't want to hear what the people around me are thinking."

"Oh, come on," Monica poured water from the kettle into the pot, "You can't tell me you're not the least bit curious. Not even for a day?"

Zack sighed quietly. "I've got enough going on in my own head," he tapped the side of his head lightly. "Why would I want to pull any outside chaos into it?" He shook his head slowly, smiling grimly, "Besides, would you really want to know that the people around you – who were supposed to be your friends – secretly resent you for something or other?"

"Knowing the truth is important," Monica countered, "How can you change yourself and grow as a person if you don't know your faults?" A tiny smile spread across her face. She had forgotten how much she missed this; just talking over any kind of subject with her best friend…_ God, those were the days…_ "Still, I guess you're right about that; knowing the truth is one thing, but stealing the truth is something else entirely."

Zack returned her smile, "We have to trust each other to be honest in all we do. How else can there someday be a world where we all exist in true harmony?" He sat back and stirred his spoon around in his tea contemplatively, "I remember some of my friends at Queen's said that telepathy could be the key to creating harmonious community, but I don't believe that's true. It's more likely that a nation of psychics would simply have their civil wars on a different battleground."

Monica nodded her assent, "because even psychics would be only human, and everyone knows how well we can get along," she took a slow sip from her tea. "Still," she leaned back so she could stare up at the sky, "it's a nice idea."

Zack nodded calmly, "Most ideas are. It's just too bad reality has a way of messing things up for everyone."

"Yeah," the redhead directed a quick glance to her best friend, "Too bad."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Zack decided to finally ask the question that had been on his mind for a few hours by now. "When you said there were worse places to crash, you meant that literally, didn't you?"

Monica slowly turned her gaze down from the sky to study her friend quietly. "What makes you think that?" Her voice was calm, steady…but she knew it wouldn't fool him. It never had before.

He gestured to her with his half-empty mug. "Your left arm is a touch thinner than your right and you're using it far less than you used to. As far as I remember, you were quite ambidextrous."

Monica chuckled as she glared down at her weaker arm like it had betrayed her. "There's nothing wrong with your memory, that's for sure."

He shrugged casually, making a thoughtful sound, "That's what happens when you've got a few kilograms over everyone else in the brain department."

"Really—that much?" Monica thought about that, "You never did tell me where you got all your mystical powers from," she smirked wryly at the light-haired man.

"Oh right," he scoffed good-naturedly, "Some powers. So I can remember everything I read or see – how would that help me do anything?"

Monica smiled confidently behind her cup of tea. "You're still working on your inventions, aren't you?"

Zack replied quickly, "Well – yeah, I'm inventing still." A strangely satisfied smile suddenly crossed his face. "I can't wait to see Jim's face when he realizes what I did to his truck."

"Oh no," Monica shook her head, picturing something awful. "What did you do?"

"Nothing bad," he paused, "I hope," he amended sheepishly. "I just needed a way to field test some things I designed. And I figured Jim could put my things through more rigorous testing than any lab; he's definitely cheaper too," the two old friends shared a quiet laugh at that before he sat back and studied the tabletop thoughtfully. "If it works, which it should, Jim's fuel efficiency will be boosted by about twenty percent."

Monica raised an eyebrow. "Wow, that's pretty good; I doubt he'll be angry if it works." She sat back more in her chair and studied the boy closely. "You know, it doesn't _look_ like you've got more brains than anyone I know."

He chuckled, "Yeah, my parents thought so too, but my head's definitely heavier than yours is. I think the doctor they took me to said something about a watermelon in a can of peaches."

Monica winced slightly at the thought, "tight fit."

The boy shrugged, "it doesn't feel like it." He stood from his chair and moved around the table to lean back against the deck's railing. "But we were talking about you; did you still want to share?"

Monica sighed and brushed an errant lock of crimson hair behind her ear. "I was being pretty literal when I said that," she set her mug down on the table. "I can't remember if I ever told you, but it's been in my mind to see every corner of our country – to really _see_ it, you know?" She smiled at the slow nod she received from her friend, "and not the whole, 'drive across Canada' thing, but to really see the unseen parts of the wilderness. I started out in Nova Scotia and went all the way west to Victoria Island; that took me a month and a half."

Zack grinned, "You took six weeks to drive eight thousand kilometres? It wouldn't have been that much slower to walk it."

Monica shrugged, "like I said, I wanted to see the Country I've called home for all my life." She took a thoughtful sip of her tea. "I passed this way through the Yukon, the Northwest Territories, Nunavut…I spent six months in Iqaluit learning to help out with some of the trappers up there. I've met a lot of nice people, some not so nice… I realized I had to learn to defend myself with more than just a call to the local authorities. Sometimes I haven't had the luxury of calling for help." She paused to draw in a slow, steadying breath as the memory of one incident in particular drifted through her mind.

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

**(((Flashback)))**

"God, I hope we catch something. McGregor'll have our hides if we can't bring him any hides…"

Monica rolled her eyes as the group of men around her dissolved into hysterics at the childish idiocy. It was strange to realize it sometimes hurt to be one of only two high school graduates for about a hundred kilometres

They were out on a two month tour, making their way around the North coast of Baffin Island, mostly on foot or sled. The Snowmobile was reserved for emergencies because fuel wasn't always available, which wasn't the most fun in the world since they had to drag the thing with them wherever they went. Still, it had a sled of its own and four Trappers could drag it for quite a while before growing tired. By now they had made it almost all the way to Cumberland sound, a little shy of eighty kilometres from Pangnirtung, an even smaller town than Iqaluit. It was Monica's first time out with the group, and it had taken the whole two weeks she'd known them to stop getting the weird looks from the all-male group.

"Hey, Red!" One of them called out to her. "Nice job making us work harder for our pay." That got a few more laughs from the group, but she noticed the dangerous gleam in the speaker's eyes.

_Yeah, I guess I did mess up their catch,_ she thought.

It had been earlier that same day, overcast and dark – there wasn't much daylight at this time of year let alone _sunlight_. Jacob, their "pack leader", had been down with a cold so he'd opted out of the day's outing, taking instead the job of watching the camp with Enoch. The remaining group of eight had split up to check the traps they'd laid out for their three-day stay at this camp. It was the fifth in a trail they came through all the way up to Qikiqtarjuaq.

Monica had been saddled with Darren – as rude and misogynistic a man as she'd ever seen—as her partner for their long walk to check the traps northwest of the camp. It turned out their traps didn't have much luck, but on the way back into camp, Monica had seen a female Caribou sniffing at one of their traps from about a hundred metres away. She'd pointed it out to Darren and wasn't the least bit surprised to see him raise his hunting rifle to his shoulder.

She'd seen he and his partner-of-the-day haul a female or an infant carcass back to camp with a bullet wound in its head. There had almost always been trap marks on the animal as well, however, so Monica had written them off as mercy killings. But the few that had shown only the gunshot wounds…Monica was certain that they had come from only one person in their pack. Now she had her proof.

And she'd be damned before she let some Roughneck like Darren spoil the rules of the game like this.

So, she'd stepped in and swung the barrel of his rifle straight into the snow before he could fire. "Not this time, Darren." She was surprised at the steadiness of her voice.

He'd looked at her with a mixture of amusement and barely-contained fury. "What the Hell's the matter with you, Red?"

She didn't back down, glancing instead at the potential game still sniffing at the bait. "If she steps in that trap I'll let you fire, but until then you keep your gun down—understand?"

He'd snorted at the absurdity of the notion, wrenching his rifle out of the ground and taking aim again, "As if you could really stop me, girl."

It was obvious the career trapper had expected Monica to cower before his threatening glare—he was, after all easily three times her weight and could hold his own in a fight – so it must have really shocked him to have his rifle torn easily from his grip and thrown to the ground to be stomped into the snow by a size eight winter boot. The Manitoban native didn't have the strength to break her partner's rifle, but she made sure he couldn't fire it without giving it a thorough cleaning—certainly long enough to keep him from shooting the game that was even now just turning away from their trap disinterestedly, oblivious to the conflict happening a stone's throw downwind.

Monica could feel the man's smouldering glare on her back all the way to the camp.

Monica abruptly stood from her place and made to retreat into the cabin for the night. Jacob and Enoch had come out to join the rest of them around campfire so she instantly found herself alone in the large, warm building. There was a wood stove to keep the place warm enough to be tolerable, but the low supply of wood kept them from being able to really heat the place up. It was rough living at its finest and as she looked around, her dark blue eyes tracing along the dozen beds crammed into the wooden building, she found a strange thought entering into her head:

She could get used to this.

It wasn't that bad of a living, trekking around up here in the northern reaches of the country. Monica actually found her spirit soaring at the freedom she had up here, away from everything that had burdened her…at least while she was awake. She could run to the ends of the Earth and her dreams would still follow, so here was as good a place as any to settle down.

Just as she'd had that thought, the door behind her slammed open and her solitude was broken. "Hey Red…"

The low voice would have been warning enough, if Monica hadn't been able to see the murderous gleam in her partner's eyes all night over the top of his beer. It didn't take someone with Zack's IQ to realize that maybe coming into the cabin alone hadn't been such a good idea.

"What do you want, Darren?" Monica didn't turn to face him; her eyes remained closed and she stayed motionless in the centre of the single-room cabin, just a few paces away from the low-burning coals of the stove.

"You really think you're something, don't you?" The roughneck paced around her, stepping far into her space. "You think I'm gonna let you get away with what you did today?"

Monica opened her eyes and found herself eye-to-eye with a hundred fifty kilograms of angry, drunken trapper. "I'm sorry," she glared at him defiantly, "Were you under the impression that I'd just let you fire on an animal that wasn't trapped?"

Darren growled threateningly and Monica realized quite suddenly that she was alone with a man who could easily grind her into paste. "You'd better watch yourself, girl. There's no room up here for a bleeding heart like you."

"Oh right," she found the words spilling from her mouth before she could stop them. "I forgot putting a bullet through a caribou actually makes you more of a man."

One second later, Monica found her chest pressed up against the wall of the cabin and one of Darren's massive, leathery, calloused hands wrapped firmly around her throat. She was so shocked by the sudden change in position that she was only dimly aware of what the brute was saying as his grip tightened alarmingly fast.

"You had better watch yourself, _little girl_," he snarled into her ear, the reek of his breath causing her head to spin even more than the sudden impact with the wall had done. "You've got six more weeks before we're back in town, and I'll be watching your every move." The hand around her neck eased up just a little but Monica's eyes grew even wider as she felt his other hand sliding _very _high up on her leg. "And I'll teach you a lesson or two about surviving up here in the North."

_Oh God…_

Monica's heart clenched with horror as the realization of what was about to happen began to set in.

Then there was a tremendous crash and Monica's neck was almost torn off when her attacker was thrown away from her. Gasping for air, the redhead turned and huddled with her back to the wall to see Enoch's right cross blow through Darren's chin as easily as wind through the reeds.

Darren had stayed away from her for the rest of that trip.

The old Monica, the person she had been before she took off from home, would have endured the rest of that tour in silence and then fled as soon as they returned home to Iqaluit. Monica was different now, however, and it had taken some convincing to get Enoch and her fellow trappers to teach her how to defend herself against arrogant cads like Darren. He may have been the first man to assault her so obviously—if at all—but she knew he would probably be far from the last, and she intended to be able to stand on her own without having to depend on the people around her.

Just to prove her point, Monica had served through that tour, and signed on for two more immediately afterwards, both of which were with Darren, her _favourite_ person. Enoch had led the second one, so Darren had kept his distance, seemingly content to just glower at her from across the campfire, but she was on her own for the third tour and their last encounter was all it took to convince him to stay away from her once and for all. It was amazing how much his attitude had been all talk and it took only one short fight for him to retreat like a terrified rabbit.

**(((End Flashback)))**

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

Monica kept her eyes closed for a moment as she made her way back to the here and now. That was all in the past, and she had learned what she could from it. She was a better person now, and where was Darren – still up in that small town killing helpless animals. He was probably doing well, considering the pay was good – extremely good actually. But he wouldn't be going anywhere, and he was likely to end up in jail someday just the same. While Monica had her own company, good friends… she couldn't dwell on the past – that pitiful excuse of a man didn't deserve a single thought from her head.

"I passed up along the northern coast of Quebec," she turned her attention back to her best friend, a better man by far as far as she was concerned. "I was actually almost here when it happened." She set her tea mug down and leaned back to stare up at the sky again. "It was pretty late at night and I was driving up the highway just a little north of here. I think it must have been," she paused before moving on more slowly, more thoughtfully as her mind drifted through the memories, "it must have been about three years ago, maybe a little more. Some supply plane pilot had gotten a little lost and run out of fuel so he tried to pull off an emergency landing on the highway. He landed almost right in front of me, and when I swerved to get out of the way, I ended up in the ditch." She closed her eyes lightly at the remembered pain – not of the accident, but of the recovery…

"It took me a long time to get back up on my feet after that," she looked around at the deck and the yard, as well as the woods that stood at the very back of the Crosslings' property. "But, I'm just happy to have walked away at all." She opened her eyes and gestured to her left arm. "I broke both my radius and my humerus, dislocated my shoulder, and broke a couple ribs."

Zack winced, "Okay, I could see the arm injuries, but you hid the ribs pretty well."

Monica chuckled, "I should hope so—I don't need anyone staring at my chest, thank you very much." She smiled even wider at the slight blush that flooded her friend's face. She breathed a soft sigh, "They healed pretty quickly, but the memory is always there." She stood up and walked over to stand beside Zack, looking out over the wild, unending forest that started a dozen metres away from the house. "I actually didn't even wake up until a week later."

Zack turned to lean against the railing and stare into the woods like Monica had been. "And the pilot—how was he?"

Monica snorted derisively, "Quite the opposite, really. He never lost consciousness. He was awake for the entire crash and I can only imagine how painful it would have been."

Zack glanced over slowly, worry in his expression. "Is he -?"

"Oh, God no," Monica laughed suddenly, "He helps me run _Wingnuts_; fastest typing speed I've ever seen—after you of course." She bumped his shoulder with hers.

Zack smiled, "Does he help you fly too?"

Monica's laughter died, "I suspect he would, but he can't. The crash left him paralysed from the waist down, but he helps me as much as he can. If he could fly he'd probably still be better than me."

"Oh, I very much doubt that." Zack sat back down at the table. "You didn't mention payroll as one of your expenses."

Monica shrugged, "That's because I don't have a payroll." She smirked at her friend's raised eyebrow before explaining, "Kin has another job—he's the chief dispatcher at the truck depot just on the edge of town. He helps me out as a volunteer."

"Well, this Kin sounds like a pretty decent guy," Zack reached out for his tea one more time. "I'd like to meet him someday."

"Oh, I'm sure you will if you come to visit me a little more often." Monica grinned as she drained the last of her tea. "Last call," she motioned to the teapot with her mug, laughing with Zack as they shared one more joke from their past. "I won't be brewing anymore after this."

"Sensible," Zack nodded but waved her offer away. "I've had enough for today." He leaned back in his chair. "Good tea and the company of my best friend, now there's something I have dearly missed."

Monica smiled peacefully as a light blush suffused her cheeks.

_Yeah, me too…_

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

Standing in the doorway of the Crossling's home, Monica watched as Jim's truck drove away, kicking up a little dust from the unpaved road. "I'll see you around, Zack."

She spoke the words to the empty house. It had been a great week for her and the Ottawa-born young man. They'd caught up on old times, shared the past four years of their lives with each other and just hung out for most of the week. Monica smiled.

Life was good.

Raising her tea to her lips, Monica's gaze fell to the clock just inside the door and she groaned softly, leaning her head against the doorjamb.

She had to get to work.

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"So, what's this I hear you had a gentleman caller?"

Monica grinned at the man in the wheelchair as she stepped through the door and into the _Wingnuts_ office. "And good morning to you too, Kin."

The man laughed jovially. "Of course it is, with the girl of my dreams finally coming in to do some work for a change. You spent the whole week away from the office, and I was so lonely…It's so dark and dreary around here without your dazzling smile." He grinned.

"Flatterer," Monica dropped her keys onto one of the office's two desks before lowering herself into her chair. "What can I say—we've hit a slow patch, haven't we?"

"True enough," Kin reached up to rub thoughtfully at the grey stubble on his chin. "Can't really say that I enjoy this time very much; I don't get to see as much of my favourite lady friend."

"Stop that," the younger pilot admonished lightly, her light-hearted smile putting the lie to her supposed ire. Kin Wing Tsui was a tad crude at times, but he was mostly harmless—very much like Jim in that respect. "You're married."

The ex-pilot was unfazed and simply smiled all the more brightly, "And happily so for many years now, my lovely business partner—but that doesn't mean I don't got eyes." He wheeled his way over to her desk, "or a heart," he added more seriously. "You're a damn fine woman, Monica, inside and out. And any man would be lucky to call you his own."

Blushing lightly, Monica sat up straighter in her seat and ran the fingers of one hand through her hair. "He's not my boyfriend Kin," she reached out to shuffle through the short stack of envelopes on her desk. "And the protective older brother thing is flattering," she stopped and lifted out one of the letters, "But unnecessary; I'm a big girl, you know."

"I know that, but it'd be a damn shame if you got hurt on account of my failing to keep you safe." He gave a deep laugh at his own words, "plus—you know—I bet Izzie wouldn't ever speak to me again if that ever happened. I think I'd be sleeping' on the couch for the rest of my life."

Monica smiled and slit open the envelope with a nearby dinner knife – her primitive letter opener. "You're sweet Kin." She sipped from her travel mug and tipped the contents of the envelope out onto her desk. "A little too old for me…but sweet." She smiled brightly to her partner.

The grey-haired man laughed again and just turned to wheel back over to his own desk, which had about four times as much paperwork on it than Monica's. The man's computer was almost buried in the piles. "Oh alright, you've had enough – I can take a hint."

Monica read the short letter over absently as she thought about a certain sandy-haired blond from her past. "We're more like friends who haven't seen one another in a long time." She turned to her computer and started booting up, the letter still held in one hand. "Hey," she looked over at her fellow _Wing nut_. "You'd better not tell Izzie, but Ashley Symms wants to do some work up here again."

Kin looked up sharply from the sheaf of papers in his hands. "Oh no…not Ashley Symms. Tell me you're joking. The magazine can't send someone else?"

"Apparently not," the redhead didn't look up from the letter. "It says here she's looking forward to working with _Wingnuts_ again."

"Yeah, I'll bet." Kin groaned and dropped his papers onto the desk, scowling when the entire pile shifted to spill all over his lap and the floor. "Between you, Izzie, and that Devil Woman at National Geographic, it's a wonder that I'm still alive."

"Oh relax," Monica set the letter down and reached for another envelope. "You're hardly suffering from the attention; I think she's sweet—like you."

Kin grunted distractedly as he set about reassembling his nation of clutter, "I guess you _would_ feel that way." He turned back to the girl across the room. "You, Izzie, Ashley Symms…crazy romantics, the lot of you."

Monica might have been offended if she couldn't hear the smile in her partner's voice. Instead, she turned her attention to the next letter in the pile.

"**I'll send her an email."**

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

A/N: Well, how's that for a second chapter? I'll be back…

A/N (again): This is for anyone reading "Four Years Later". If you can't tell by the description, NO – this Kin isn't the same Kin as made a cameo appearance in my other story. He's just…Kin.


	3. Strange Coincidences

**Title: The Zachary Chronicles – Origins**

**Chapter: 03 – Fate Steps In**

**Rating:** T

**Edit(Nov 13, 2011): **Revised because ffnet doesn't support the formatting I used before for scene breaks.

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

AN: Okay well, here we are again with this mess I call my favourite series of stories. I just thought I'd share them with you all. And my plea to you all still stands – please read my stories and let me know what you think. I can't improve as a writer if people don't tell me what I need to work on!

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And a great big thank you to Solanaa, my beta reader. Thank you for putting up with me.

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**Origins:**

/\**word**/\** - **Anna's speech

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

_**Chapter 3**_

_Friday, July 25, 2008_.

"So, Zack—how was the vacation?"

Zack scowled over at his brother and declined answering. He just turned and swung the door of the pickup truck closed while walking away. "I'm still not talking to you, Jim."

"Oh come on," Jim locked the truck up and hurried after Zack as a pair of motorcycles pulled into the lot and slid smoothly into place across from the two brothers, sharing an empty spot beside an old, bright green Honda. "I know you don't mind that much—it was a good surprise, right?" Jim grabbed his younger brother by the wrist and pulled him close enough to throw an arm around his shoulder. "Hey, what's your hurry, buddy? Let's chill down here a while."

Zack snorted, watching with a sort of detached curiosity as three people climbed off the bikes. One was considerably smaller than the others—a child probably. For a second, Zack wondered who would be crazy enough to let a kid ride on one of those things, but then he reasoned that it had to have been one of the two still helmeted bikers, and they should know what they were risking when they rode together.

Still, the other two didn't seem to be especially impressive in appearance, and the observation was only further validated when they pulled their own helmets off to reveal two heads covered by long, flowing hair. One woman had a head of night-black hair that hung all the way down her back and swayed gently with her every movement. Her skin provided a striking contrast to her companion's dark mocha complexion, being a little on the paler end of the scale. The other woman's hair was a violently shocking shade of white—like the very core of a lightning bolt. And it looked like both women were wearing the same style of clothing; a single-piece leather bodysuit. And while the taller woman—the one who had ridden solo on the bright green bike—wore hers in black, her partner's was a deep, midnight blue colour.

No, Zack wasn't struck at all by the appearance of either the women or the child. But their bikes…

_Oh wow._

The two motorcycles didn't at first appear to be anything other than a pair of clean, well-maintained and modern-styled sport bikes, but there was just something about them. Something about those machines called to Zack, drawing him in with the urge to peel back the panelling and take apart the insides to see how it all worked.

"Hey," Jim's voice snapped Zack out of his staring match with the parked bikes. "Check it out Zack—new tenants?"

Zack glanced over at his brother's appraising gaze and snorted again, shaking his head slowly. "Jim, you've already got a girlfriend and knowing Belinda, I doubt even you would survive the break-up."

"Psh," Jim gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'm just looking. Besides, one of them has a kid." He nodded his chin at the young redhead who'd just slipped off her helmet and started skipping carelessly across the parking lot. "I'm not ready to deal with that yet."

"Ah," Zack grinned, "So you _do_ know your limits." He chuckled quietly, "I'm shocked."

"Oh, shut up." Jim scowled at his brother and just turned back to watch the women following in the wake of the girl. "Hey, they're coming over here."

"Of course they are," Zack looked behind them. "We're between them and the door."

Jim grunted in surprise as the young girl ran right into his legs, grabbing him by the waist in a tight hug. "Um…hi?" He reached up and scratched the back of his head nervously.

"Hi!" The girl craned her neck back to look straight up at Jim's face with wide brown eyes and an ear-to-ear grin.

"Emma!"

The girl's smile vanished in a heartbeat at the commanding tone and she quickly let go of Jim to back away a step and try to look like she hadn't been doing anything wrong. It was an unconvincingly innocent pose that only a child could manage to pull off.

The two women stopped in front of the brothers and the taller one glared down at the redhead with a stern look while pulling off her gloves. "What have your mom and I told you about hugging strangers?"

"Um," the redhead turned her eyes up to Jim as though pleading for help.

Zack smiled silently as he observed the second woman digging through a rather full backpack for something, her attention wholly devoted to her search. There was something…off about her, but he just couldn't figure out what it was.

"Sophia," the paler-skinned woman turned to her companion, "Why aren't you trying to control the little monster?"

"I need my water bottle," the other replied distractedly, as though that phrase alone explained everything. She pulled the sought-after item from her bag finally. "Aha," and without taking any note of her surroundings, the woman threw her head back and brought the bottle to her lips.

"Oh," Jim was helpless to resist the pitiful look in the girl's wide, round eyes. "Don't worry about it, Ma'am."

The tall, raven-haired woman's eyes flashed briefly. "Yeah," she drew that one word out briefly, "How about you _never_ call me that again?"

"Sure thing," the older brother held out his hand, "Jim Neldeb."

The abrupt spluttering sound from the other woman was the only warning Zack had before he was completely drenched with water as it literally exploded from her mouth and straight into his face.

For a few long moments, it was as though the world stood still. All four people just stared at Zack with expressions ranging from mortified horror to shock and amusement as he slowly blinked in stunned disbelief.

Of course, it was inevitable that one of them wouldn't keep silent for long.

"Wow Zack," Jim laughed and slapped one hand onto his brother's back loudly. "I'll bet you've never had a girl spit-take on you before."

Zack wordlessly reached up to wipe his face with the sleeve of his sweater. "No, that was definitely a first for me."

The woman with the shocking white hair brought a hand up to her dark lips in mounting horror, "oh God – I am so sorry." She moved towards him.

He waved her off easily, "Don't worry about it. I'm fine, really."

The girl looked between Zack and the bright blue-eyed woman with innocent curiosity – and no small amount of relief at seeing that her misdemeanour appeared to have been forgotten. "Mom?" She looked up at the taller woman, causing Zack to raise an eyebrow, puzzled. "Why did 'Phia just spit all over Zack?" The young genius' other eyebrow went up. Now _this_ was interesting…

"Emma," the mortified woman shot a sharp look at the girl. "Please be quiet."

"Hey Speedy," the night-haired woman reached out to muss up the girl's hair, earning herself a furious glare. "Why don't you take your Mom upstairs and get supper started, hey? We'll talk about this soon, okay?"

The girl gave a tiny sigh, and Zack suddenly had the impression of a mid-to-late teenager rolling her eyes. "Okay," she walked around Jim to grab the other woman – Sophia – by the hand. "Come on, Mom."

"I'm really sorry about that, Zack." Sophia supplied quietly before being led away by the downcast child.

Zack chuckled softly once they were gone as he wiped his face again. "Well, I've got to say _that_ was the most…interesting first meeting I've ever had."

"Yeah, I'll bet." Jim stared off after the other two, "She seems a little…high strung?" He looked back at the woman who hadn't yet moved.

She smirked quietly, "You could say that." She held out one hand, "Teri Nordham."

Zack accepted the handshake, surprised by the warmth in her firm grip. _Wow, this woman's like a furnace – how is she surviving in those clothes?_ "Zack Neldeb," he supplied, rather than embarrass himself by pointing out his observations. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Teri's smirk became just a little knowingly mysterious, like she knew something he didn't. "Likewise." She released the handshake and slipped her black leather gloves into one of the pockets of her bodysuit. "So, are you two just visiting someone, or do you live here as well?"

"Oh, I don't know." Jim shot a sly look at his brother, "I mean, _I_ live here with my girlfriend, but my bratty brother'll probably be moving out pretty soon." He wrapped one arm around Zack's shoulders playfully. He turned his attention to Zack, "Seems Charlie's looking for a new supervisor for one of the plants up north."

Zack shook off the offending arm, "As if he'd have the authority to pick me. If they need a replacement somewhere, the Head Office will decide who it is." He smirked slightly, "Besides, I have no desire to be anywhere else but here."

"We'll see, dork." Jim was uncharacteristically willing to let the matter drop. "We'll see."

And without another word, Jim shouldered his bag and turned to walk into the apartment building.

"Yes, we both live here," Zack turned his attention back to their new acquaintance. "And you?"

Teri Nordham ran her fingers through her hair. "Oh, Sophia, the kid, and myself are just coming back after being…out of town for a few years. Sophia's had this apartment for a while now."

Zack nodded thoughtfully, "I hope she's been keeping up her rent; Mrs Bayly's not the most lenient of landladies."

"Yeah, she's been keeping-," Teri stalled mid-sentence and tilted her head curiously, "Did you say Bayly?"

Zack nodded as he watched his brother disappear through the front door of the building. "She's a little old lady with a fighting spirit." He didn't catch the light smile that flitted across the woman's lips. "Jim says she used to be a tenant here before she bought up the complex – it was a few months before I moved in. She's a nice lady and she's pretty good with the business side of the whole deal."

Teri was nodding too, her blue eyes bright with silent laughter. "Sounds cool."

Zack slid his own bag out of the truck bed and tilted his head in the direction of the two parked motorcycles. "Those were some nice bikes you brought in. Custom job?"

The blue-eyed, leather-clad woman grinned mysteriously again. "Yeah – we had them built by…a friend a while back." She looked back at the silent machines. "They've taken real good care of us."

"Have they?" Zack felt that tingle in his hands again – an itch he so longed to scratch. "I'd be very interested in having a look under the panels of those two machines." He caught the dangerous heat in the tall woman's eyes, "With your permission of course – they're your bikes so I'd hate to trespass like that." He was quick to amend his previous request, sensing somehow that this was a woman he did not want to anger.

Teri just smiled and laughed quietly. "Easy there, Chief—we just met." She studied the man suspiciously, "How sure are you that you can look without breaking anything?"

Zack raised an eyebrow at the realization that dawned on him. This woman was playing with him; not only that – she was joking around with a familiarity that was almost overwhelming. Was it even possible for someone this outgoing to actually exist? "I'm pretty sure," he replied to the woman's playful jab. "I do a little tinkering of my own you know."

"Oh?" Teri smirked once again. "Well, why don't we just see how well we can get along first?"

"Fair enough," Zack led the strange woman into the building, his mind quickly drifting back to the relaxing week he'd just had.

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

"Hey, Neldeb—you got a minute?"

Zack was halfway through stripping out of his uniform when Charlie Heung poked his head into the locker room. He took a quick glance down at himself and decided it would take too long to change into real person clothes. "Yeah, I'll be right out Charlie." Resigning himself to a few more minutes spent in his slightly sweaty work-clothes, Zack simply re-buttoned his white and blue-striped shirt and quickly straightened out his collar. He kept his reflective vest on hand but didn't feel the need to put it back on yet.

It was a patient and calm division manager that met the Ottawa-born boy when he came out into the hallway. "Let's talk in my office, Zachary." Charlie waved for Zack to follow him as he started down the hall.

"Hey, Zack!" Jim came tearing down the hall, his ASD white coat already half-hanging off his shoulders. "Having a little chat with the boss man?" He brought himself up short, smirking evilly at his little brother. "Well, it was fun living with you Zack, but you're going on to bigger and better things." He clapped one hand onto the shorter man's shoulder, wiping fake tears from his eye. "I'll miss you, baby brother."

"Jim," Zack growled at the brown-eyed troublemaker. "I'm not moving, and I don't believe anything you tell me." He failed to see the strange little smirk Jim gave to the tall, wiry man standing beside him.

Charlie sighed exasperatedly. "Jim, can you please get your over-large keister out of here? I've had about all I can stand of your antics today."

"Sure, thing, boss man." Jim saluted smartly and then ran off again. "See you at home Zack," he shouted behind him.

"Crazy fool," Charlie shook his head tiredly. "It's too bad he's the fastest dishwasher I've ever seen because he's a pain in the ass."

Zack grinned quietly, "Yeah, he gets that reaction from most people." He followed Charlie as they made their way to the main offices of the building.

"Have a seat Zack," The brown-haired half-Chinese man made his way slowly around to his own side of the desk and eased himself down into his chair with a quiet groan. "Oh boy. I'm definitely not fit for the work you people do."

"I saw you working at the machine with Jim," Zack smiled sympathetically. "What happened?"

"Bah," Charlie waved one hand irritably, his eyes closed in the comfort of his chair. "Enrique, Carlos, and Martine didn't show up for their shifts today. Martine called in, but the other two…haven't heard a thing."

"All three of them?" Zack grimaced, "No wonder you're so tired, all you had was Jim."

Charlie shook his head, his eyes still closed tiredly. "It's a good thing it was him I was left with. If all I had was one of the others…" he shuddered lightly. "Like I said Zack—your brother's fast and he works hard for his pay, despite appearances." A tiny smile twitched at the corner of the man's lips. "He could easily cover for one missing washer—maybe two." He laughed suddenly, "but even your brother can't handle the shift for all of them."

Zack chuckled too, sharing his manager's amusement. "I'll be sure not to tell him that."

The relaxing manager groaned frustratedly, "God—thank you…I forgot who I was talking to. Please don't tell him—it'll make the man even more obnoxious." He sat up suddenly and took in the sight of Zack waiting patiently in his chair. "But you're here for something other than to listen to my groaning." Standing from his chair, he walked over to his filing cabinet and pulled a thick bundle of files out of the bottom drawer. "So, tell me Zack," he dropped the string-wrapped package onto his desk and settled back down into his chair. "Are you completely dead-set against moving?" he fixed a stony look on the truck driver.

For a few moments, Zack could only sit and stare at his boss. "You're joking, right?" He groaned and fell back against his chair. "That's why Jim wouldn't let it drop."

Charlie smiled and patted the bundled files with one hand. "ASD has been a busy place while you were gallivanting around in Labrador." A short laugh emerged from Zack's boss, "and your brother and I may have had a few talks about you while you were gone."

Zack relaxed and felt a smile twist his lips despite his growing apprehension. "Well I guess congratulations are in order, since there's no way you could have the authority to reassign your workforce unless you were promoted to, what - Regional Manager?"

Charlie laughed. "Yes, I got promoted; Regional Manager of Eastern Canada."

An ominous realization drifted up to the surface of the young man's consciousness. "Okay, so do I want the long story or the short?"

The black-haired man sat back in his chair slowly, "The division manager at one of our plants out-of-town is retiring at the end of the winter and it's company policy to search in-house for a replacement before hiring from outside."

Zack sighed quietly, "And you're telling me about this because I'm being considered for a promotion?"

Charlie replied calmly. "I'll level with you, Zack—this place," he waved one hand in a quick circular motion to encompass the building around them. "_ASD_ as a whole…it kills people. It really does." He sat forward and rested his elbows on the desk. "I've been at this post for fifteen years and it's never failed to destroy the spirits of its people."

Zack raised an eyebrow, confused, "What are you saying? Jim's been here for two years and he's still the same brother I've always had."

"That's exactly what I mean," Charlie closed his eyes lightly. "Don't you think it's strange that he hasn't grown at all in the two years that he's worked here? Two years is a long time for a person to stay in one place mentally. You're what – three years younger but how much more maturity do you have on him?"

"That's different," Zack argued. "I've always been ahead of Jim—ever since we were kids." He smiled impishly at the darkening colour of his employer's face. "Okay fine, I get what you're saying, Charlie. This place stunts your growth; so how does giving me a promotion help Jim out?"

"It doesn't," Charlie shrugged, sitting back again. "But it helps _you_." He took a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing on. "You see it's all about control – the less you have the more quickly your spirit crumbles. Right now you're a driver Zack, and I've seen how good a worker you are—believe me when I say that. But if you spend too much longer here in this place your mind's likely to atrophy from the mindless tedium." He reached into a drawer of his desk and withdrew a yellow file folder. "Jim tells me you're an inventor."

"Well," Zack shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I tinker a little with some things."

Charlie rolled his eyes, "Yeah, bullshit. Jim said you butchered his engine, so don't give me any of that 'I tinker' crap." He shook his head, chuckling suddenly. "He said he got almost halfway to picking you up at your girl's place before he had to fill the tank."

"Really?" Zack sat forward, curiosity evident in his eyes. "That's a much better result than I had expected."

"Anyways," Charlie pushed the folder across his desk, "take a look at this."

Raising one eyebrow and casting a curious glance at his manager, Zack pulled the document towards him and opened it to find himself faced with more than a dozen pages of different scale-diagrams from some weird kind of electronic glove to a pair of odd-looking roller blades. "Okay," Zack flipped through the pages again, "What am I looking at?"

Charlie levelled a mild scowl at the younger man, "Old inventions of my own." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and sat back in his chair. "I used to be like you, you know—a bright mind just looking for ways to make things better…"

"Until you came here," Zack finished, nodding his understanding. "Wow, some of these drawings are incredible. Why didn't you do anything with these?" He looked up at the newly-promoted businessman. "Why have these drawings just been lying in your drawer unfinished?"

Charlie shrugged, "That's what I'm trying to protect you from; I hit a major slump about ten years ago and I haven't drawn a line since." He waved his hand around in a circle again. "This place stifles creativity in everyone who works inside these walls. My inventions all lie unfinished on paper and I can't find the inspiration to pick them up again."

"So how does my continued work for this company protect me from that?" Zack closed the folder and set it back on the desk. "You'll be shipping me off to be isolated from my family and friends."

"Not necessarily," the brown eyes facing Zack narrowed just a touch. "You haven't even heard where the opening is yet." The smirk that slithered onto the older man's face wasn't a comfortable sight, not at all.

Zack sighed once again as that ominous feeling tip-toed through his head. "Alright you win, Charlie—I'm not saying I'll take it, but tell me about this place."

Charlie laughed and pulled a razor bladed knife out of his pencil holder, easily slicing away the string around the thick bundle of folders. "Well, it's a much smaller operation than this one; there are only ten employees—including office staff." He started shuffling through the stack quickly, "Let me see—there's the two drivers, three cooks, and a dishwasher part-time, and then the secretary, janitor, and accountant/lawyer/plumber/human resources manager." He chuckled as he set down the latter folder, picking up the second to last file. "And there is of course, Danny – our retiring manager." He slid the last folder towards Zack. "In any case, it's a quiet enough place that you'll have a lot of time on your hands to exercise that incredible brain of yours."

Zack nodded and pulled the file to his side of the desk, but he didn't open it. "So, how long do I have before I need to make a decision?"

Charlie just smiled. "Well, I would give anyone else two weeks to think about it all, but I suspect you won't need quite that much time."

Zack smiled nervously, "And how long until I'd have to move?"

"You've got two choices," the newly promoted Regional Manager sat back once again in his chair. "You can either go through the managerial training here for one month or we can have you moved a little sooner than that and Danny'll put you through the course up there at his office."

Zack nodded slowly. "Okay, but bottom-line it for me—what changes if I take this?"

"Ah yes, the big question-," Charlie laughed again. "The money. I know it's not a huge priority of yours, but you should be happy with the raise that comes with the new post." He took a moment to set something up on his computer before reading off the screen. "You're currently paid the standard driver's wage with three weeks off a year. This promotion would bump you up to sixteen dollars an hour with four weeks a year. You'll get a thirty percent year-round location bonus for as long as you work in that area, a fifteen hundred dollar relocation bonus on your next cheque, and you'll have a six-percent increase in your pension plan."

"Are you sure you don't want to offer Jim the promotion?" Zack grinned as his boss released a frustrated sigh and laid the palm of one hand up against his forehead.

"Oh, please – as if I'd ever be insane enough to give your brother _any_ form of responsibility." Charlie groaned the words out in an exasperated tone. "But come on now," he waved at the folder under the young genius' hand, "Tell me if you think you'll want the posting – yes or no?" He smirked mysteriously and not a small-bit triumphantly. "I think the location would be the clincher for you."

Zack rolled his eyes at the manager's continued self-confident air before opening the file, "Alright Charlie – I'll humour you." His eyes scanned the page quickly. "_'Promotion to division manager position; posting-'_…" his pale blue eyes widened abruptly and darted up to stare at his employer, his eyebrows arching upward in his surprise. "Are you serious?"

Charlie's reply didn't come for a second, but then a wide smile slowly spread across his face as he watched the gears turning in the young man's head.

"Congratulations on your promotion, Division Manager of Goose Bay-Happy Valley."

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

"Jim!"

Zack slipped his shoes off and stormed into the apartment, making a beeline for Jim's bedroom. Once there, he went straight to the window and drew up the blinds, letting the sunlight from outside flood the room and its rudely awakened occupant. "Jim – why didn't you tell me?"

Jim groaned and rolled over, pulling his pillow over his eyes, "I's s'pos t'b s'prise," he mumbled faintly. "Nnn…why'd y'w'ke m'up?"

Zack stepped up to the bed and towered over his brother threateningly. "You probably won't remember this once you really wake up, but I'll get you back for this – I promise you that."

"Tha's nice…" Jim tried to find a position that would shield him from the sunlight. "Now, g't ou'a m' room."

"Gladly," Zack tore the pillow from off his brother's face and walked out of the room. "Oh yeah," he paused at the threshold and turned slowly back to face his groggy brother. "I ran into Teri Nordham downstairs. All three of them are going to breakfast and Sophia invited us along, so get up."

Jim slapped one hand over his eyes, frowning irritably. "Make me," he challenged in an impressive feat of coherence.

Zack grinned deviously in spite of the fact that his older brother couldn't see it. "Jim," he stated clearly, "If you're not downstairs in twenty minutes, I'm coming up to drag you down myself and I won't care if you're as naked as a sunbeam."

Jim sat up slowly and squinted one eye open to glare at Zack, "I just got off work, man." His face was twisted around that one open eye in the strangest expression in order to block out as much of the bright summer sunlight as possible.

"That was two hours ago," Zack replied, making sure to speak loudly for his moody brother's discomfort.

"So? I need my sleep." Jim rolled over on the bed and buried his face under the covers. "Now go away."

Zack smirked quietly, "You've gotten at least an hour of sleep which is more than I've had so come on," he studied the lazily unmoving form on the bed. "A little food and socializing is all I want – then you can come back here and pass out for three days for all I care."

When no reply was forthcoming, Zack simply shrugged and sighed, his lips lifting at their corners to form a sinister smirk. _Time for the old fall-back plan…_ "Have it your way then; I'll be back in twenty minutes." He started walking toward the door, "and who knows? I might even bring one of them up with me."

Jim was up like a shot, sitting upright on the bed and staring horrified at his brother. "You wouldn't." The older boy didn't sound too sure of that himself.

Pausing at the bedroom's doorway with his back turned to his frustrating roommate, Zack didn't have to hide the victorious gleam in his light blue eyes. Girlfriend or not, Jim was still so easily manipulated by the opinions of members of the fairer sex. "Try me," he replied to Jim's challenge, "But I don't need to remind you what happens when you bet against me, do I?" His grin only widened at the low, defeated grumble that answered him. "Besides," he relaxed, secure in the knowledge that he had won this round, "You're too big for me to carry and Teri looks like she might be able to handle some of your weight."

"Alright, alright…" Zack listened to the rustle of bed sheets. "I'm getting up."

Zack nodded slowly, "Thank you."

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

"So, what exactly is it that you do?"

Zack set his fork and knife down before answering the snow-haired woman's question. "I work as a truck driver for an airline catering company."

"Correction," Jim pointed his fork squarely at the sandy-haired boy, "_Used_ to work as a truck driver. My boy Zack just got promoted to a desk job way up North somewhere." The older boy grinned over at him. "I'll miss you brother."

Zack scowled good-naturedly at the older boy but was prevented from answering by the small girl sitting beside him. "What does Kate-erring mean?"

Teri was the one who reacted first to the simple question. "Well, little girl, catering is when a big group of people get another group to make food for them."

"Oh, okay." Satisfied with the woman's answer, Emma went back to mashing all the food on her plate into a uniformly unrecognizable pile of mush. When Jim had asked earlier, she had told him it was the "pre-consumption" phase of her meal and that it made the food go down easier. But when he tried to emulate her technique, she had steadfastly refused to allow it.

Just like she did this time.

"No, you can't take my idea!" The pint-sized redhead's voice was quickly approaching that incredibly high pitch that could only be reached by the vocal chords of young children.

Jim smirked carelessly at the girl as his fork went about mixing his syrupy pancakes and eggs together, "Oh? And who's gonna stop me, pint-size – _you_?"

She made a weird face at him, "No, but my Mom can totally kick your butt."

Jim scoffed at that for a moment before a look of confusion stole across his face. "Right – and which one's your Mom?"

Emma rolled her bright blue eyes exasperatedly. "Duh – they're _both_ my Mom, dummy."

Jim's eyes just about popped out of his head before turning to stare at the other two females at the table. "Really?"

Teri quietly wiped her thin, black-painted lips with her napkin and turned away from her veritable mountain of meat and eggs. "Hey Jimmy – listen closely."

Zack felt like banging his head on the table. _How do you get yourself into these messes, Jim?_

"I'll be honest with you," Teri's smile played a sharp contrast to the blazing heat in her dark blue eyes. "I won't fight you over this," she ignored the disappointed groan from the girl across from her, "but you make her cry and I'll beat you hard enough you'll be pissing out your ear." She arched one wiry-thin eyebrow, "get it?"

"Gross," Sophia spoke up from her plate of pancakes. "I'm trying to eat, Sh – Teri."

Zack felt another flag go up in his head. _There really is something off about them_, he thought. The couple had been setting off warning lights ever since Zack had met them, and he couldn't figure out why.

Grimacing at the image the dangerously low voice had conjured in his head, Jim nodded and simply went back to eating his food like a normal person, scowling all the while at the look of triumph on the small redhead's face. "Keep smiling, Shorty – I'll get you back sometime."

Emma stuck out her tongue as Sophia turned to look at Zack. "So, a promotion – you must be pretty happy about that."

Zack shrugged, nonplussed by the raise. "It's a change."

"You know," Jim paused to swallow a mouthful of pancakes and eggs. "I know you're my brother and all, but I'm not looking forward to driving your stuff back out there. I don't think I can spare the time off work."

"You can't," Zack picked at his omelette absently. "Charlie put out a call to a charter company at the airport up there. They'll be sending someone down in a few weeks to fly me out."

Jim raised his eyebrows, grinning around a new mouthful of pancakes. "Anyone I know?"

Zack snorted and glared mildly at his brother. "I hate you."

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

"Hey Flygirl."

Monica looked up from the left wing of her plane where she'd been examining it for damage after that last storm. "Yeah Kin?"

_Wingnuts_' co-owner rolled his chair across the pavement of the closed hangar. "Burning the midnight oil?"

The young woman brushed her hair out of her eyes with one grease-smeared hand. "Well, we don't have a full-time mechanic and there's not much room in the budget for routine maintenance. I'll give Keith a call if I find anything I can't handle on my own."

"Alright then," Kin came to a stop beside the plane and smacked Monica's rear lightly with a plain brown envelope. "Le'er for you, Miss Nut," He added this last in the strange British accent he used when playing jokes around the office.

Monica scowled back and swatted his hand away before smirking good-naturedly and accepting the torn-open offering. "Why thank you, Mister Wing," she responded in kind. "Let's see," she slid the paper out and started reading.

"Looks like the last flight for our little girl," he dropped his accent and patted one of the side-panels of _Wingnuts_' sole vehicular asset. "We'll be closing up for winter after this one."

"What are you talking about, Kin?" Monica glanced at him only briefly before returning to her reading. "We never close; the airport still runs."

"Well, yeah but we get what – a flight every winter – maybe two?" He brushed his hand over the blood red bird that had been painted on the side of the plane. "Our girl doesn't get much exercise in these months, and you've got your Classes to worry about."

"She gets enough," Monica smiled faintly as she thought about the job she took at the Fitness centre every winter to compensate for the sharp drop in business over the colder half of the year. Her smile only grew as she finished off the letter, "It's a charter flight, Kin. Out of Montreal."

"Wow," the old pilot let out a low whistle. "That's quite a run; you'll have to make about a half-dozen stops both ways. Or you could just strap on old Bessie." He glanced over to where a huge external fuel tank hung suspended on a rolling trolley. "She'll get you to Montreal and halfway back before you need to stop."

Monica looked at the oldest piece of equipment they owned. "I'll take Bessie," she wrinkled her nose distastefully as she said it. "And that's the last time I let you name anything in this office."

The older man chuckled quietly, unaffected by the friendly jab. "You've got it, boss lady." He rolled his chair back a little, coasting around the hangar aimlessly. "So, who are we picking up?"

Monica smirked without replying for a moment. _Oh, my life just got a little more interesting…_

"With any luck," she glanced at the plane beside her, "I might be bringing back a part-time mechanic."

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

"You know, there's something about that family."

"Huh?" Jim collapsed onto his bed without changing out of his clothes, his brotherly obligation now complete. "There's nothing strange about them…'cept maybe that kid."

Zack groaned and rubbed his face with one hand. "Would you forget about Emma for a minute? The pre-consumption method of eating is only allowed by kids."

Jim opened one eye and glared up at his brother. "Says who?"

"Says me," Zack replied unhesitatingly, "Now, help me out a little." He went over to the window of Jim's room and looked outside for a few heartbeats. "Haven't you sensed something…off about Teri and Sophia?" He slowly closed the curtains, much to the relief of his older brother. "I mean – really off, but somehow…familiar?" He turned back to shoot a thoughtful look at his older brother. "Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"Yeah," Jim rolled over to study the sandy-haired man more fully, a smirk spreading across his face. "They're called girls, Zack. They're supposed to give off those kind of vibes." He reached up one hand to wipe a tear from his eye as a fake sob rose up in his throat. "My baby brother's all grown up and discovering his hormones. Goodbye sweet, ignorant childhood…"

Zack snatched the pillow out from under Jim's head and bashed him in the face with it. "Go to sleep Jim, I'll see you at work tonight."

A noncommittal, sleepy grumble was his only reply.

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

Zack stared at the camera hanging from the laptop screen in front of him. "You have _got _to be joking."

**I do not joke, Zack.**

Zack rolled his eyes, "Well yeah, but – man, I guess I asked for that one…"

**Yes, you did.** The black-haired avatar slowly pacing across his system tray shook its head slowly as it moved back and forth. **I did not expect my search to return a result this confidential.**

"And let me guess, the security that stood in your way when you stumbled over it was just too tempting to pass up?" He considered his quickly maturing prodigy. She had reduced herself back down to her customary 10 Gigabytes of allotted _"active memory"_, but Zack had never set his restrictions back in place. It had been two weeks since their return to Jim's—slightly less since the news of Zack's impending promotion. By now, Anna had been familiarizing herself with the newest addition to her programming; a small optical camera. "And just what exactly _were_ you searching for?"

The girl gave a slight shrug that was more a spasm of her shoulders than anything else. **I was attempting to find a translation program for a document that I expect will add an efficient stratagem to my gaming.**

_Ever the Gamer, aren't you, Anna?_ Zack laughed quietly to himself and bent down to fiddle with something under the desk for a moment before straightening once more. "So what language package did you want?"

**It was not a matter of desire, Zack.** The girl crossed her arms but her face remained completely devoid of emotion. _You really do need to work on those facial expressions, Anna._ **If I am to decipher the contents of the document, then I will require a standard Spanish-English translation program.**

Zack raised his eyebrows, surprised. "You never learned Spanish?"

**Should I have even considered it before now?**A slight twitch ran along Anna's jaw-line – like her lower jaw had popped out of alignment and then resettled after a split-second. **Spanish-speaking countries are not known for their technological innovations.**

"Well," Zack thought about it for a few beats. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense." He smiled easily. "So, that would probably mean that you _do_ know most of the far-Eastern languages, right?"

**That is correct. **The girl seemed to pull a white piece of paper out of thin air and began reading off it. **I have the appropriate translations subroutines for Mandarin, Cantonese, 80% of all the Korean and Japanese dialects, Malay, Thai, Vietnamese, and approximately half of the Indian dialects.** The bright green-eyed animation tucked her little list away again.**I also know French, German, Swiss, and Cree. In addition to that, there are several languages I am in the process of learning in response to this most recent discovery.**

"Yeah, I'll bet you're having fun with that." Zack bent back down to fiddle with the machine under his desk.

**That is unlikely to be the case.**Anna seemed to think about it for a moment or two. **Can you explain the concept to me again?**

Zack sat back in his chair and took a moment to form his reply, raking his hand through his flourishing sandy-blond hair. "What—fun? It's a difficult thing to explain to someone who doesn't have a clue about it because there is no master, all-consuming definition. I know that frustrates you to no end." The young man reached behind him for the tea he'd set down on the shelf on the other side of the tiny storage room – right beside the laundry detergent. "Your dictionaries will probably provide you with some formal definitions for the word, but that's not what fun really is."

**Then what is it? If I cannot rely on the accuracy of my dictionaries, how then can I understand the idea of 'fun'?**

"Well, the definition of fun is largely subjective and personal; what may be fun for me probably wouldn't be the same for Jim or Belinda, but it might be slightly fun for Monica or completely detestable to someone else." Zack took a quick sip of his tea as he considered his next words and the problem his protégé had put before him. "Jim's idea of fun is an entire day in front of his video games. I get some enjoyment out of that too, but there are some things I have a lot more fun doing."

**Would you then conclude that fun is associated with low to zero productivity.**

Zack considered the silent question, "Not necessarily. Like I said, fun depends on the person—or computer program," he nodded his head at the camera in recognition, "Who is defining it. The basic idea of fun is any activity that you enjoy – something that you do of your own free will. Some people will consider work to be their idea of fun and that works for them. Other people may consider doing absolutely nothing to be fun, but others may find unproductive activities to be fun. A fun activity is something that you might like to do very often, or only once in a while, or even only once in your lifetime. A fun activity can be relaxing, exciting, frightening, or any number of other varied emotions."

Zack carefully closed up the casing under his desk and activated the power source. A smile spread across his face as the new machine hummed to life. _Who needs wires when you've got a great brain?_ "The important thing is," he spoke to the camera, "There is no fool-proof, universal formula for the concept of fun; the very idea of fun is fluid, changing, indefinite—unique from one person to the next. You'll have to experiment and explore the possibilities before you discover what activities are fun for you."

**I am beginning to understand.** The girl appeared to finally catch on to what Zack was doing. **What are you doing?**

Zack reached back to take another sip of his long-cooled tea. "I'm just preparing the very last part of your birthday present."

That seemed to pique the girl's interest. **Is that so? What is it, Zack?**

"You'll see soon enough," was the boy's cool reply. "First I have to be sure it's working right." Zack hooked his…modified…PDA into the device under the desk and read through all the diagnostics text that scrolled up on his screen. _Okay, starting disk check…and while that's running…_ Zack checked his watch. "Hey – it's time." He put his teacup back down on the shelf. "I've got to go meet Monica." He started to gather his things together. "I'll be back soon."

**Say hello to Monica for me.**

Zack grinned, "Say hello to her yourself, she's staying down for a couple days."

**This is a surprise.** The green-eyed girl's eyes grew wide in excitement. **Will she be staying at Jim's apartment as well?**

"I think so," Zack stood and reached for the black vest he'd finally pulled out from the bottom of his hiking bag. It was a thin but warm, black canvas thing with a healthy collection of pockets. Swinging it around his shoulders and sliding his arms into it, Zack quickly checked that he had everything before turning back to the little girl that was lying on his system tray. "I'm off, Anna—I'll see you later."

**Goodbye, Zack.**

Zack was out of the room and opening the door to the hallway too soon to see his computer's avatar turn around to have a seat on the system tray as an internet browser window popped up on the left side of the screen. As the girl watched silently, a stream of web pages flashed past for a moment before stopping on a single page:

"_North American Aerospace Defence Command, Colorado Springs."_

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

As Monica brought her plane to a stop at the small airstrip, the propeller slowly spinning down to a stop as the engine's roar died, she saw Zack come out of the nearby flight control office. She couldn't help the wide smile that spread across her face at the sight of the familiar black vest.

"You still wear that thing," she asked as she climbed down from the cabin of her Beechcraft, "Why?"

The blond super-genius glanced down at his attire, "Hey, I like this vest. I can carry everything I need between it and my satchel."

"I'm sure you can," Monica grabbed Zack in a tight hug. "It's good to see you, Zack." She laughed brightly. "So, you're transferring to Goose Bay? That's a real coincidence." She arched an eyebrow at her long-time friend.

"Whoa," Zack raised both his hands to stop her, "I never asked for the transfer; the post opened up and my supervisor seems to think I'd be good for the job."

"Of course he does." The redhead pulled away and winked at him. "How long until you need to report in for work?"

Zack thought about it briefly, "Well, Charlie gave me a week's unpaid vacation to move and get settled, so I guess…three, four days tops before we need to leave."

"Hey, that works." Monica looked around the deserted airstrip. "This is a really busy airport, isn't it?"

"This is St Lazare, okay?" Zack brushed some of his growing hair out of his eyes, "Not too many people have small planes to fly into this airstrip. Big planes go on to Dorval or Mirabel."

"Hey, don't worry about it." She waved his explanation away. "It's kind of like back home. Alright," she reached back into her plane and pulled out her black and red duffel bag. "And how've you been? It's been a couple weeks."

Zack snorted as he watched Monica set her bag down and start going over her plane carefully. "It hasn't been four years this time, so life hasn't really been all that exciting. Anna's got a camera now."

"She does?" Monica grinned widely at her friend. "Moving right along, aren't you Zack?"

Zack snorted, "Right. You just haven't seen her in four years – that's why she's growing up so fast. I was just working on the last piece of her birthday present before I left the apartment." Stepping back a little, he eyed the plane Monica had flown in. "Nice plane…"

Monica could see the wheels turning in her younger friend's head by the way his gaze roved along her dark red-striped plane from nose to tail, breaking down every part into its most basic components and analyzing each one to see if there was any room for improvement, any way to make it better. "So…" she drew the word out for a few seconds, her lips twisting into a knowing smirk, "Do you want to take a look at the engine?"

Zack's grin easily matched hers. "Are you sure you want to give me permission?" A spark of mischief entered his expression, "I might break it."

Monica laughed quietly and grabbed her friend by the arm, dragging him away from her company's most expensive piece of equipment. "I know you, Zack – it would take a miracle for you to take something apart and not be able to put it back together better than it was before. But first," she ran a hand through her messy blood-red hair, "I need a shower. I flew straight from home, so I've been up there a few hours."

"What?" Zack stared at her, "That's a 2,500 kilometre trip and your plane couldn't be doing more than what – two, maybe three hundred an hour?" His brow furrowed slightly as he thought more on it. "That must have been a ten-hour flight, more even."

"About that," Monica swung her bag lightly into Zack's hip. "Now, let's get out of here," she used her free hand to lock up her plane and then followed her friend off the airstrip. "And just where have you got me bunked?"

"Well," Zack unlocked the doors to Jim's truck and held the passenger side open for the charter pilot. "Let's see – there's the couch or you can take the cot and I'll move to the couch."

"I'm fine on the couch," the redhead climbed into the truck and strapped in. "What about the spare room?"

Zack waited until he was in the driver's seat before he replied. "Belinda's in there."

"What?" Monica's eyebrows rose up past her bangs. "Really?"

The younger brother nodded with a tiny smile ghosting across his lips. "I thought you would have known that already since you've been talking to him so much."

"Oh," Monica grimaced slightly, "You're still sore about the whole secrecy/surprise thing, are you?"

Zack shrugged, his smile unshaken. "Not really. It was a good surprise, but don't tell Jim I said that. He'll get the idea that I like that sort of thing on a regular basis."

"And we definitely don't want that," Monica agreed just as her friend turned the key in the ignition. "So, Belinda and Jim in separate rooms…" She shook her head slowly, "He is the only ladies' man I know with only one lady—he's not sleeping with her either?"

Zack turned out of the airstrip and onto the highway back to Montreal. "Yeah, Jim's a softie at heart. Not all that different from when we were in school, eh?"

"What?" Monica relaxed in her seat and closed her eyes lightly. "Back then it was what—a girl every two weeks?"

"You know?" Zack changed lanes to let a small black sedan merge onto the highway. "He'd probably hurt me if he knew I was telling you this, but he's never slept with a girl."

Monica turned to stare at Zack, "You're kidding." She paused, turning back to face the road, "No—you're not kidding, but that doesn't make sense. He's got a girlfriend still, he can't be gay."

Zack burst out laughing, "Whoa, I never said he was gay – just that he hasn't slept with a girl yet; not while he was living at home at least." He shrugged, "That may have changed since then but I'd be surprised. Back in High School, he was all about really showing his girlfriends a good time. He's kinda sweet that way." He glanced over at the redhead, a thin smirk touching his lips, "But gay…I'll have to remember that one."

"Hey, cut that out," Monica laughed and punched him lightly in the shoulder. "The way you were talking, it made sense."

Zack glanced over at her quickly, "And you think I did that on purpose?" His expression couldn't be described as anything less than mischievous. "I would never foster a rumour like that about my own brother."

"Of course you wouldn't," the redhead nodded as if she believed him. "So," she relaxed back in her seat and closed her eyes lightly, "How's your packing coming?"

"All done," Zack merged onto an adjoining highway. "Except for my laptop and Anna's last present. It's no more than a hundred kilos – can your plane handle that?"

"Easily," Monica turned to stare out the window thoughtfully. "Especially if I let you work some of your magic on her. I know a museum out West that would just love to take that belly tank off my hands."

"What, you mean the external fuel tank?" Zack glanced over at her again, his smile much less amused and more companionable. "What was the name on the side," he laughed at the mildly nauseous look that crossed his passenger's face, "You named your belly tank, 'Bessie'?"

"No," Monica glared at him good naturedly. "My partner did that and I immediately revoked his naming privileges for it."

"Oh, that's too bad." Zack chuckled lightly, "Did he at least get to name your plane before you did that?"

Monica scoffed, "No way—that's my baby. I named her before he got the chance." She smiled suddenly at her young friend. "So, Jim tells me you're kinda spooked by your new neighbours."

Zack frowned slightly for a moment before letting out a short laugh. "He's still talking to you more than I am, eh?"

The redhead smirked, "Well, now you'll have no excuse for ignoring me," she turned back to stare out at the growing signs of the city that lined the edges of the highway. "So tell me, Mr Neldeb," she affected the air of a patient, high-class psychiatrist, "What exactly is it about these new neighbours that has you so wound up?"

"I don't know," Zack changed lanes and settled in to cruise a little ways behind another car. "It's not that I'm wound up, it's just…" he struggled with how to explain his feelings about the new tenants. Once upon a time, he and Monica had been close enough to read each other pretty well. "It's just that I feel like I know them from somewhere," _I know we can't go back to the way things were, but will we ever connect that easily again?_ "I think you'll get what I'm saying when you meet them."

Monica smirked quietly, "Testing me to see how well we click after so long?"

Zack glanced over at her quickly, surprised at how well she'd read his intentions. Smiling, he turned back to the road. "Maybe I don't need to."

Things were definitely beginning to look up.

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

Jim closed his cell phone with an irritated _snap_, "Just where the Hell is he?"

"Hey!" The small girl seated beside him slapped him on the shoulder. "You're not supposed to talk like that!"

"Ow," Jim rubbed his arm, "And now I'm getting told off by a six year-old."

Emma lashed out again, this time punching him on the arm. "Nine year-old!"

"Okay, fine." Jim waved the girl off with one hand while holding his arm with the other. "Hey, you hit pretty hard for a girl."

"That's 'cuz Mom's teaching me how to fight." The small redhead sprang off the couch and landed in a martial arts stance Jim didn't recognize. It certainly wasn't any style he had seen Belinda practice.

The aforementioned Japanese girlfriend was seated in a chair nearby, quietly sipping at her tea and raising her eyebrows at the girl's movement. "I've never seen that stance before, what style is it from?"

Emma stepped forward and swept her low hand straight out in front of her as she started a slow sequence of movements, her lips tight with concentration. "Mom and Teri won't tell me. They say it's from far away, but that's all they'll tell me."

Belinda nodded, accepting that answer as she continued to watch the girl practice. "It can't be from that far away." She spoke quietly, under her breath. "It seems a little familiar now…" She stood from her place and drifted over to stand beside Emma, floating as though in a trance or something similar. "It's like," her arms and legs slipped easily into the same stances as the much younger girl, and she was immediately matching the redhead move for move. "It's like I've done this before," she mumbled distractedly, "Maybe in a dream?"

"Maybe in another life?"

Belinda snapped out of her foggy, thoughtful daze at the sound of their hostess' voice. "Excuse me?"

Teri Nordham walked over to stand by Emma and study her slow, careful movements. "Keep it up, little girl; you're doing really well." She turned her head to focus her dark blue, amused eyes on Belinda, "Do you believe in reincarnation, Belinda?"

The Japanese girl appeared to consider it for a moment before replying. "I believe in some form of it. If it really exists, though, I don't think any real memories survive from one life to the next."

A strangely unsettling smirk slithered across the raven-haired woman's lips. "Well, maybe you once practised the style _Speedy_ here's trying to learn in some other life."

"Hey," Emma pouted a little as she crouched a little into a defensive stance, awkwardly working through her routine. "I'm doing better than last week."

"That you are," Teri agreed with a more comfortable smile. "It's called the Templar Panther style," she turned her attention back on her guests. "It's an…older martial arts style." That discomforting, devious smirk was back and Jim was beginning to feel a little like the butt of a really elaborate practical joke.

"I don't know…" Belinda's voice was distant as she lost herself in her thoughts. "It seems familiar, but I think I would have seen someone perform this style before."

"Templar?" Jim's expression twisted into a confused scowl. "You don't mean, like, Freemasons, do you?"

A mysterious smirk was the tall woman's only reply and that sense of strangeness hit Jim again just as a quick knocking came from the apartment's door.

"Oh, guests," Teri's smile vanished and she walked swiftly over to answer the interruption.

Jim watched as a slight frown creased Teri's striking features when she opened the door, "What—did you forget your keys?" She turned to make her way back over to the others without waiting for a reply.

Sophia made her entrance in all her shocking-white haired glory, a sheepish smile affixed firmly on her face. "No, I just like making you answer the door for me." Then, before the taller woman could voice her aggravation, the bright blue-eyed woman grinned and ducked back out the door for a moment before returning. "Look who I found on my way up." She dragged two people into the apartment with her.

Jim smirked, "Hey, Zack—it's about time you got home."

The younger brother rolled his eyes, "Can you blame me? I had to show Monica around town a little bit."

Teri froze suddenly and because of her position, Jim was the only witness to the chaotic play of emotions across the pale-faced woman's expression—Belinda and Emma were both preoccupied with the little girl's martial arts routine.

Monica waved quietly, "Hey Jim, how have you been?"

"I've been doing…good," Jim replied distantly as Teri's face slowly settled on a single expression that sent a chill of foreboding down his spine like a shot of ice water. _What the…_he thought, _something's about to snap. This is so not going to be fun._

Despite the clear evidence of Teri's mounting but inexplicable rage, it still came as somewhat of a surprise when the raven-haired woman whirled around to face Monica—

And punched her across the face with unerring accuracy.

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

"Hey Zack?"

The boy looked up from his place by the bathroom door and winced at the growing shiner over his friend's left eye. "Yes?"

Monica lowered the icepack from her face, "I see what you meant about your two neighbours."

Zack snorted, "Yeah, I'll bet you do." He quickly looked down the hall at the closed bedroom door. There hadn't been a single sound since Sophia had dragged an un-protesting and remarkably docile Teri in and locked the door behind them. "I'm not too fond of the way you found out, though." He turned back to the redhead beside the sink. "All Sophia did was spray a mouthful of water on me."

"Oh, I'd have liked it much better if Teri had spit-taked on me," she touched her forehead gingerly. "Or at least, I'd be in a lot less pain." Pressing the icepack back onto her face, Monica hummed a low, thoughtful note. "It was a beautiful punch, though."

"If you mention anything about repressed feelings, I'll take another swing."

Zack noted the brief look of fear that passed across Monica's face, but it was gone quickly enough.

"Hey, what can I say—everybody wants to fall in love with me." She grinned back at Teri as the woman entered the room to take a quick look at the darkening splotch on the redhead's face.

"I'm really sorry about that, I'm not usually in the habit of hitting my guests." She levelled an earnest look on Monica.

The charter pilot waved off the taller woman's concern, "Don't worry about it." She moved over to sit on the edge of the bathtub. "It's not the first time someone's taken a shot at me, but I've usually given them a reason to do it."

Zack's head tilted curiously at his friend's casual remark, but before he could ask at all, he noticed Monica distractedly trailing her thumbnail down the back of her lower jaw—like she was scratching at a slight itch. The easy and innocent gesture was actually one of a very few number of shorthand signals the two friends had created in their two years at Nepean High. This one in particular was just a way of saying, "we'll talk later", or "I need to talk". So Zack kept his questions to himself…for now.

Teri smiled apologetically, oblivious to the communication passing between her guests. "I don't suppose it would help if I told you the last Monica I knew wasn't exactly a good friend?"

Monica looked just as perplexed as Zack felt. "I don't know," she replied slowly, "I suppose it would help a little. But I'd appreciate it if you would take some time to get to know me before deciding to attack me. A little warning might help me." She placed the icepack onto her face again. "I'll tell you this much, you hit like a bullet train."

A short laugh burst out from Teri. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Take what as a compliment?" Sophia came into the room, slowly brushing out her long, blizzard-white hair. She took in the bruise on Monica's face and turned an angry glare on the tall woman, "That you seem to have a talent for beating up girls?"

"Hey," Teri matched the glare with one of her own, but it was tightly controlled as she stared at the dark-skinned woman. "I've never laid a hand on Emma."

"Good thing, too." Sophia chuckled, "I'd kick your ass if you did."

Monica's eyebrows shot up. "Do you think you could? She hits like a wrecking ball."

"Oh, we're a pretty close match," Sophia smiled mysteriously. "Now," she started out of the crowded bathroom, "How about we get on with dinner?"

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Dinner turned out to be a most…interesting affair.

"Yeah," Monica replied in response to Sophia's question. "I've flown all over the Northern coast and even into the Territories a little. You wouldn't believe how many people need a pilot up there in the summertime." She paused to cut a piece out of her pork chop.

Teri took the moment to speak up while tossing an interested glance over at where Jim and Belinda were conversing quite animatedly in Japanese. "And how is business in the winter?"

After swallowing down the delicious morsel, Monica took a quick drink of water before replying. "It's a lot slower, mostly because we're not equipped to fly supply runs for any of the smaller, remote towns. I'm hoping to get into the supply trade within the next year or so. The towns up there could always use another supply plane." She smiled widely at another thought, "But I wouldn't want to get so busy I couldn't keep my classes at the centre."

That seemed to catch the child's attention; she had been quietly picking at her food without comment or interest at all in the conversation around her. "You're a teacher? How come you never told me that—I love teachers!" Her excitement and abrupt interest was as unexpected as it was obvious.

"Um," Monica slowly put her fork and knife down. "I'm not really a teacher, Emma. I just have a dance class I teach every winter over at the fitness centre." She smiled lightly down at the girl seated beside her, "And I haven't told you because we just met…" Here she smirked up at Teri, "And your Mom was taking up most of my time."

"Oh yeah," the tiny redhead turned on her darker-haired mother. "Why'd you hit Monica, Mom—she never did anything to you?"

Teri sighed and gave the girl a look of warning that either went ignored or unseen. "I know, kiddo. It was wrong of me, but do you remember that talk we had before?"

"No…" The look of intense concentration on the child's face as she bit her lip would have been exceptionally cute if Monica wasn't so confused. "Oh…" the girl's eyes opened as wide as saucers and she closed her mouth, returning to her meal without another word. She continuously tried to cast subtle glances of the pilot-teacher seated beside her, but she made no further comment.

"So," Sophia tried to set their previous conversation back on track. "You see yourself working at…_Wingnuts_ for a long time?"

Zack and Monica shared another look across the table. _What is with these people?_ "Honestly?" Monica took up her fork and knife again. "I think I could pilot forever—pay or no pay. Just," she smiled fondly at the thought of her plane…if a little sadly, "Maybe not in _Phoenix_. She won't last forever, no matter how well I take care of her."

A knowing smirk crossed Teri's face. "I'm sure your _friend _Zack would be more than happy to help you take care of your plane; he was just itching to get under the panels of our motorcycles." She grinned over at where Zack was sitting on her left, "Isn't that right, Zackie?"

Zack raised an eyebrow at the strange familiarity in that nickname, ignoring the queasy feeling in his stomach at the sound of it. _I sure hope that name doesn't stick._ "I don't know," he thought to try and throw them off-guard. They seemed to know far too much about him. "Planes aren't really my thing—I'm mostly good with cars and bikes—you know…_land_ vehicles." Then again, maybe this was what everyone felt like whenever they met Zack…transparent, exposed...

"Oh yeah," Jim abruptly broke away from his conversation with Belinda, giving his girlfriend an apologetic look. "That's a load if I ever heard one. Don't you have that crazy thing you've been working on for, like, the past ten years?" He nudged his elbow into Teri's side, "Let me tell you—there's no way that thing'll ever roll on the ground." He beamed over at his brother, "That thing was built to fly."

Sophia smiled and sat forward interestedly, "Really?" She looked between the two brothers. "You're building a plane?"

Zack was unsure of how to proceed, to lie or not to lie… But he wasn't a liar, so he decided to go with it. "It's stuck in the design stage, really." But no one said he had to reveal _everything_. He paused a moment to take a sip of his tea. "I think maybe I'm being too picky about the materials I need to build it, but it's going to be the best…aircraft the world has ever seen."

"Oh, I bet it will be," Teri smiled that irritatingly knowing smile again. "From the way you were stripping my bike apart with your eyes, I'm pretty sure you know what you're doing there."

Zack felt his frustration rising as he tried to wrap his mind around the woman's uncanny ability to understand him. It was nice of them to be so accepting of his…quirks, but no one had ever been able to understand him like that—except for Monica; especially so soon after meeting him. And that subtle sense of familiarity still hadn't gone away. _Just who are they_, he thought, _and why do I feel like I know them?_

It was definitely a puzzle, and if there was one thing Zack knew for certain, it was this:

He could solve any puzzle.

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"I thought you could solve any puzzle?" Monica smirked at her friend from where she was up to her wrists in _Phoenix_'s engine.

To all appearances, Zack was too engrossed in his examination of a half-dismantled piece of equipment to participate in any sort of conversation, but his half-distracted voice sounded more than aware of the world around him. "I can—it's just…the only solutions I've thought of don't really seem plausible."

Monica pulled her hands out of the heart of her plane and focused her full attention on the slightly shorter man. "Does it have anything to do with time travel, alternate realities, or parallel dimensions?" At the boy's simple raised eyebrow, she turned back to her plane with an amused, derisive snort. "You've been hanging around with your brother too much, Zack. Good thing you're leaving…"

"I don't know…" The sandy blond sorted through the various bits and pieces of the…thing he was working on. "Yeah, I know how it sounds, but it would explain a whole lot about that family."

Monica snorted again, tightening down a few screws and nuts that had come just slightly loose sometime in the past few months. They weren't crucial support points, but it would be best if they never came completely free. Plus, it gave her something to do with her hands. "I can imagine how much this is bugging you."

"Can you?" He bobbed his head absently and started reassembling the head-sized component in his hands.

"Of course," the redhead nodded her chin in the vague direction of the highway. "The whole time we were there, you were practically vibrating with frustration and curiosity. We haven't been apart long enough for me to forget what that looks like."

He smiled quietly, seemingly to himself. "And you?" He looked at her seriously. "How are you doing?"

She distractedly touched the already half-faded bruise over her eye as she looked over to take in the expression on his face and knew immediately what he was asking. "Things are doing…all right…had a really weird one the other night; the night before I flew down here, actually."

It was the younger friend's turn to scoff good-naturedly. "They're dreams of other planets and space, Monica. I think weird is just par for the course."

She shook her head at him. "No, this was different. You know the dark presence we sometimes feel – the…evil force?" He nodded thoughtfully at the question and she set her tools down. "Well, it had a face this time, and I saw it."

He raised an eyebrow at her and finished screwing all the pieces of the engine part together. "So?"

She hesitated, "Oh, I don't know if you'll believe me if I told you." At his serious, unwavering look, she relented. "Okay, but I warned you: Sarah Kerrigan."

Now his other eyebrow rose up. "Um, are you sure? Kerrigan?"

She nodded, wiping some grease off her wrench. "As much as I can be, considering she's a fictional character. Besides, it was more the feel of her than the sight of her that I recognized. It's kinda like that feeling you have with Teri and Sophia; it's like I know her…"

"The 'feel' of her?" Zack smirked thinly at her. "Is there something you're not sharing with the class?"

She waved one hand at him in a mock-slap, "Oh, shut up."

The young genius just chuckled lightly at her, "Hey, come on… I'm an understanding guy. My brother's gay, you know," he grinned over from the work table.

Monica threw her greasy rag at him, "Shut _up_!" The laughter that followed took pretty much all the fire out of her outburst, though.

Zack just ignored the thrown cloth and snapped the cold aluminium casing closed around the thing he'd just finished building. "There – done," he held it out for Monica to take, "One new and improved prop-control rotor."

Setting the present conversation aside, Monica accepted the bulky engine part. "Are you sure about this?" Her eyes flitted from the control to _Phoenix's_ exposed engine, and then to Zack. "I don't quite see how _this_," she held the dull grey component a little higher to get a good look at it, "Is going to improve my fuel consumption."

Zack turned away and grabbed another piece of equipment and started to take it apart with practised ease. "Well…you're right. I could do a lot more by working directly on your engine and improving that, but I'd need more than the three days I've had. So, with only three days, all I could do was work on some of the simpler parts of your plane's mechanics. Take that prop-control for instance—it takes a lot less energy to function than your old one. Less energy means the engine doesn't have to work as hard, and therefore you use a little less fuel."

"Oh," Monica turned around and fitted the new part into place where the old one used to be, wrapped around the central shaft of her propeller. Her left eyebrow went up when it seated itself perfectly while she reached for her wrench again. "Hey Zack, how did you know what shape to make the casing?"

Zack snorted, "That was easy—I know what your plane is; finding the specs for parts was pretty simple- especially for a model that old." He laid out the pieces of the considerably smaller device on the workbench. "Nice website, by the way," he smiled, seemingly to himself. "No, getting the casing itself was a little harder, though still not much of an ordeal."

"How did you manage that?" Monica tightened down the new component in her engine compartment. "I don't remember seeing a metal works back at Jim's."

The only other occupant of the dark hangar laughed quietly at her, the sound echoing just slightly around in the shadows. "I know a guy. I do some odd favours for him from time to time and he uses a little overtime at work to shape me some things." He paused, tinkering with something in his hands, "Nothing bigger than a microwave, however, which is a bit of a shame."

Monica smirked at him. "And what sorts of favours does your 'guy' have in mind?"

His head snapped up to stare at her for a mute few moments before he snorted again and got back to work. "Alright, I'll lay off the jokes." He chuckled suddenly. "Besides, after Harry Foster, I know where _your_ interests lie." Monica could hear the amusement in his voice, but it didn't bother her in the slightest.

"You remember Harry?" She grinned at the memories they shared from their time in high school.

"Of course," he scoffed, as if the very idea of forgetting something was ridiculous to him. "Hello – perfect memory? Plus, you only talked my ear off about him for about three weeks." He grimaced at his next thought, "and then cried on my shoulder for another two."

She shared his sour expression, "Hey – he was a great guy…until I found out he had a girlfriend at every school in the district. I hate guys like that." She scowled before turning a warm smile on him. "Thanks for putting up with me."

He looked up from his work and returned the smile, "Anytime Monica – it's what I'm here for."

She blushed lightly at him before noticing the disembowelled contraption in front of him. "What are you working on? I thought you only had one piece for me."

"I do," he replied, tightening a couple of screws on the casing as he slowly started putting the thing back together. "This is something else. I've been working on it for a couple months now."

Monica rolled her eyes at the typically vague response. The super genius always got like this when he was really absorbed in his work. "And just _what_ exactly is it?"

He looked up and the redhead was taken aback by the brightness in his eyes, the…excitement that had been inaudible in his voice. "It's a control unit for my utility suit."

Monica glanced from Zack to the vaguely cylindrical collection of parts on the worktable, "Your utility suit? I thought you would have retired that thing by now."

"Never," Zack gasped in mock-horror at the mere suggestion. "Never retire; change, improve, and modify but _never _retire." He grinned at Monica, "Shame on you, Monica."

She laughed at his words. "So, what does it do?"

He stuck his tongue out at her. "Anything I want it to. It's an idea I had after watching a Batman marathon with Jim." He chuckled at the face Monica made in response. "Yeah, I know—you're right. I've been spending too much time with him."

"Batman?" Monica poked her friend in the shoulder. "I sure hope your stuff is cooler than Hollywood special effects."

He snorted, "Definitely."

She nodded and moved back to her plane and started closing up _Phoenix_'s engine panels. "So, think you can drag yourself away from that long enough to drive back and pick up your stuff?"

He quickly sorted through all the pieces before placing them carefully into a small case with a lightly-padded interior. "I'm ready to go," he replied as he closed and latched the case with a _snap_ before turning a faint smile on his friend. "Are you in a hurry to get back to the North?"

She smirked derisively at him. "You've never lived in a small town, have you?" She tightened down the last panel, "Cities are nice, but they can't beat a good, small town."

Zack pushed his case just a little under the work bench. "Well, there's a first time for everything."

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Jim looked at the plane lined up on the airstrip. "So, this is it, huh?"

Zack grinned at his brother. "Goose Bay is a little farther than Ottawa, but you should try to visit sometime; I'll try to do the same."

"I don't know," the older Neldeb ran his dark brown eyes over the somewhat distant figure of the redheaded charter pilot. "Seems to me like you've got all the reasons you could need to stay up there."

Curious, Zack followed his brother's gaze to see Monica going through her pre-flight. Knowing Jim, he wasn't talking about the plane. "It's nothing like that, Jim." He tried to reassure the taller boy.

"Yeah, whatever." Jim held one hand out for the super-genius. "You just keep in mind how close you two are, hear?"

Zack sighed exasperatedly and looked back at Monica. While it was true there was nothing going on between them, there did sometimes appear to be a possibility… He turned back to Jim. "Alright – fine, I'll keep it in mind just to shut you up—happy?" He grasped his brother's hand firmly.

Jim grinned roguishly and reached out to mess up Zack's hair, "There's my baby brother." He waved vigorously to get Monica's attention. "Hey Monica – you take care of him, you hear me?"

She waved from her place by the tail of her plane, "Yeah, and you take good care of yourself – Zack won't be around to do it for you."

"Bah," Jim waved off her playful jab. "That's what I keep Belinda around for."

Zack snorted and swung his last bag up onto his shoulder, "Yeah, I'll bet. It has nothing to do with the fact that you're completely smitten with her."

Jim wrinkled his nose and followed Zack to the waiting plane. "You make it sound like I didn't have a choice." He reached out one hand for the door, glancing over at the pilot for her silent nod of permission before pulling it open.

"Sometimes you don't," Zack replied as he slid his bag up into the plane and followed it in so he could strap it down with the rest of his belongings in the back. He took a moment to look it all over to make sure he had everything. He had the hiking bag he'd shown up at his brother's door with, a large case with all his computer equipment and other things he'd acquired over the past few months, his smaller bag with the rest of his personal items as well as his laptop, and Jim's cot. "Thanks again for lending me the bed, Jim."

The taller boy waved the gratitude aside, "Yeah well – it's not like I'd use it very much." He stepped back, away from the plane. "So, you makin' a lot of money now?"

Zack chuckled quietly at the question, stepping down from _Phoenix_'s cabin. Typical Jim. "Far more than I ever expected to be making working at a place like _ASD_."

"Well hey-," Jim reached out and messed up his brother's sandy blond hair again. "Don't you forget who got you that driving job in the first place." He grinned smugly at Zack.

"Jim, are you asking me for a cut?" Zack scowled at the older boy and used one hand to fix his hair while his other lashed out to slap his shoulder. "I don't think I can do that, but if you really need some help anytime, you give me a shout, eh?" He laughed at Jim's surprised look, "Hey, what are brothers for?"

"Hey, alright…" Jim's grin broke into a wide, brotherly smile. "Now – get over here." He grabbed Zack and pulled him into a tight hug. "You take care, Zack."

"Yeah," Zack returned the hug, "Same to you."

Jim pulled back, smiling roguishly again, "And you'd better not wait so long to visit, no matter what kind of…" he glanced pointedly at Monica, "_incentives_ you have to stay up there."

Monica slowly walked up to them, too late to hear their last exchange. "So," she looked between the two brothers, "You all set?"

"Aye, Captain," Zack saluted cheekily, "Cargo stowed and secured."

She laughed at him, "Oh, quit it." She moved to face Jim, "So – I'll see you around, Jim." The pilot started to turn away, intending to climb into her plane.

"Whoa, girl—not so fast-." Jim's hands shot out and he grabbed the redhead into a firm hug. "That goodbye was pretty lame, you know."

Zack started laughing at his brother's antics but stopped when he caught the expression in Monica's eyes. It was only there for a moment before she forced it aside, but he'd seen enough.

Fear.

Raising one eyebrow, Zack felt his mind kick itself into overdrive as it found another puzzle to solve. _Afraid of Jim?_ Zack looked between the two friends – his best friend and his brother. _No, not of Jim…_ There was a far-off look in the Prairie-born girl's bright, sky-blue eyes, like she was being transported off to some other time and place.

Oh, there was a story behind this one, Zack could clearly see that.

Ever the socially graceful man that he was, Jim released Monica and clapped one hand on her and Zack's shoulders. "You both have a good flight." He turned to Zack, "And you give me a call when you get in, alright?"

Zack nodded, "Alright." He shot a questioning look to his friend, rubbing his left temple with the ring and middle fingers of his right hand. _What are you thinking?_ "We better get started," he replied to Jim. "It's going to be a long flight."

"Yeah," Monica ran the nail of her thumb along her jaw in a distracted manner. _Later._ "It will be."

Jim grabbed them both in another hug. "You two behave yourselves up there." He stepped back, oblivious to the redhead's well-concealed discomfort.

"You've got it," Zack sighed and climbed up into the plane, "I'll see you around, Jim."

Jim grinned at him as Monica walked around to climb up into her seat. "Count on it."

Zack smiled faintly as he turned to watch Monica working with the controls and Jim ran back to his truck. _Four years since we've seen or spoken to each other_, he thought; _and we're still close…_ He turned back to stare out the windows as the Beechcraft's engine cranked to life. _And now we're being thrown back together into the same town._ He smiled a little more widely.

_Strange Coincidences._

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A/N: Okay, I know this story isn't really popular at all, but that's okay. I'll keep writing it anyways. But, if you REALLY hate it or something, please let me know if there's anything I can do to improve it. Or you could let me know how you liked it…


	4. New Acquaintances

**Title: The Zachary Chronicles – Origins**

**Chapter: 04 – New Acquaintances**

**Rating:** T

**Edit(Nov 13, 2011): **Revised because ffnet doesn't support the formatting I used before for scene breaks.

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AN: Okay well, here we are again with this mess I call my favourite series of stories. I just thought I'd share them with you all. And my plea to you all still stands – please read my stories and let me know what you think. I can't improve as a writer if people don't tell me what I need to work on!

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And a great big thank you to Solanaa, my beta reader. Thank you for putting up with me.

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**Origins:**

/\**word**/\ **- **Anna's speech

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_**Chapter 4**_

_Tuesday, September 16, 2008_.

The cabin of the little plane was quiet except for the drone of the engine as it left Montreal and its surrounding landscape behind. The high, loud whine of the aircraft's propeller easily penetrated the thin barrier between it and the two old friends.

The headsets they were wearing, however, did an adequate job of cutting the noise down to a tolerable level.

And it wasn't very long before one of them broke the humming silence.

Monica glanced quickly at Zack, her eyes unreadable. "Well?" Her voice buzzed into Zack's ear from the microphone in her headset.

He turned away from staring out the window to look at her quizzically. "Well, what?" He was just barely able to hide his amused smile from her, and it annoyed Monica to know she had been played once again. _He knew I couldn't help myself._

She rolled her eyes and turned to back to face forward, a thin smile twitching against her own lips. "You can't fool me, Zack – I know you."

He blinked at her innocently, "I don't know what you're talking about."

She shook her head at him, "You're just dying to know why I get spooked when guys touch me."

"Okay fine," he relented, letting his smile shine through faintly. "I'm curious, I admit." He stared back out the window of the plane, "But it's not my business if you don't feel ready to share. Besides," he chuckled lightly to himself, "You haven't flinched from any of my hugs yet, so I'll take it as a good sign."

"A very good sign," the redhead agreed wholeheartedly. "But don't sell yourself short, Zack – you're still my best friend." She sighed quietly, "You have every right to hear about what my life has been."

Zack nodded quietly to himself. "Okay, if you're sure." He turned once again to face her.

She smiled at him, "I am," she assured him, "So go ahead and ask me what's on your mind."

"Alright," the young inventor adjusted the microphone on his headset slightly. "How was your tour around Canada – really?"

Monica let out a quiet sigh of relief. You could always count on Zack to not leap right onto the difficult topics; the conversation would make its way there naturally, if at all. "It wasn't much of a vacation, really," she admitted honestly, "There were of course the times when it felt great to be alive – really free, you know?" She looked over for a second to see his head nodding slowly. Even if he didn't _know_, he had an incredible imagination. And he could appreciate that at least Monica knew. "And then there were times when I was so scared being out on my own like that, surviving on nothing but a few days' work for scraps from town to town." She smirked thinly. "You have no idea how much business is done under the table in some of the smaller towns across the country – even in a couple of the big cities too, really."

The blond-headed boy nodded again, "I can imagine."

She laughed quietly to herself. "A lot of places will trade stuff for something other than money. I got a week in Prince Rupert by working the reception desk of the local veterinary clinic; the vet was related to the hotel manager, you see." She shook her head, still smiling. "I've got to admit, though, the weirdest trade I've made was at this crappy little gas station between Camrose and Red Deer. The station owner 'really needed some action', so—."

Zack's eyes widened noticeably, "Tell me you didn't…"

She snapped her gaze over to him. "Oh – God, no… I refused to do _that_. It was the creep's first suggestion, though." She shuddered momentarily. "No, we compromised; I watched the station for about three hours while he went to satisfy his urges, and then I got two full tanks of gas and a reasonable amount of supplies." Monica paused briefly in her explanation, blinking thoughtfully. "You know…I still have those three gas cans he lent me – I've never really gotten around to sending them back to him." She shrugged abruptly. "Well, I doubt he was really expecting them back."

Zack was silent for a few more seconds before offering an alternative solution, "If you let me take care of them, I'm sure I could get them back to your friend."

"By what—," Monica raised one eyebrow without turning to face her passenger, "By building a catapult?"

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "No…but I'll bet I could design one to fire pretty far."

The pilot laughed, "So maybe you'll teleport them there?"

He laughed too, clearly enjoying their back-and-forth banter, "That would probably take me a couple years, but it's a cool idea…" His eyes started darting around swiftly, following lines of calculations and patterns of thoughts as he formed them within his own mind. "I bet I could come up with something…" He trailed off distractedly.

_I'm sure you could_, Monica thought privately. She debated momentarily on whether she could use Zack's distraction to drop the topic, but then decided against it. _He should know what happened; there are more than enough holes in our past without making more in our present._ "I travelled across the country for six months like that before I hopped a plane to Iqaluit." She paused, "That's where things got bad."

Zack's mental calculations came to a very abrupt end and his focus returned to the pilot of the little plane. "What do you mean?"

Monica shrugged lightly, marvelling once again at the fact that her friend could switch gears at the speed of thought. "I don't suppose it would surprise you that I've never stopped having the dreams. I might have gone a few nights or a week without them, but they've always come back eventually." She snorted quietly to herself, "And to think my whole reason for leaving was to get away from them…" She shook her head at her foolishness of four years past.

Zack looked away slowly. "For what it's worth…" he began, "I'm sorry you got stuck with those dreams. I know how crazy some of them can be."

Monica waved him off. "Don't worry about it, I've gotten used to them by now." She smiled suddenly. "You know, I think the good dreams are enough to make up for the bad ones."

"The 'good ones'?" Zack smirked thinly at his friend. "Like the ones about your friend, _Sarah_?"

She spared a hand from the controls to swat at his shoulder. "Oh, shut up," she laughed anyway – it was a funny joke, after all. "There are other dreams too, you know."

"Such as?" Zack's curiosity might have been obnoxious if Monica didn't know him almost as well as she knew herself. _His mind is a crowded place_, she mused. _It would be shocking if he could focus on any one thing for more than a few minutes at a time._

"Why don't we finish one conversation first?" She knew the slightest pull could draw him to a serious topic. Ingenious, curious he may be – even eccentric – but he was always a friend, first and foremost. "We can talk about my fun dreams on the ground." She tapped her fingers on the steering yoke for emphasis.

"Sure," Monica could almost see Zack's mind shoving that subject to the back of the shelf. "So, Iqaluit? You really did see every corner of the country, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Monica smiled thinly. "I travelled even farther North from there with a trapper pack just as the winter was setting in." She snorted, "The first time in my life I had ever been alone with nine men – I should have expected something to happen."

Zack slowly considered what she wasn't saying, his sharp mind picking up on the tiny, almost imperceptible hints Monica probably didn't even know she'd dropped. "Are you sure this subject shouldn't wait until we're on the ground?"

Monica shook her head, chuckling quietly, "There's no better place for this subject than up here, actually." She gestured around them with one hand. "After the accident, after I got certified on small planes, I found where I belong. I've been to every corner of the country, and I've _never_ felt more relaxed and at peace than up here in the sky with the controls under my hands." She glanced to where Zack was seated beside her.

He nodded his understanding throughout her brief explanation. "I can understand that; it's much the same with me." He cracked a wide grin and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the stiff, poorly upholstered headrest. "It is remarkably peaceful up here," he continued speaking into the flat, grey microphone. "But I think the most peaceful place for me is when I'm working on something – anything. Drawing, building, dismantling, modifying…" His smile eased to reflect his thoughts, "As long as I'm working on something whose birthplace was somewhere in my own head, I could probably talk about anything comfortably."

"I don't doubt that," Monica checked their heading. "But no…nothing really bad happened until about four weeks into the tour I'd signed on." She paused to gather her thoughts before continuing on. "I got along pretty well with all the guys. They were really great people mostly. They weren't rude and derogatory to me, but they also didn't treat me like a weak little girl. For a while, it almost felt like I belonged…but then Darren snapped."

"Let me guess," Zack nodded knowingly, "Darren was the one guy you couldn't stand out of the whole group?"

Monica snorted, "Yeah, that's it exactly. I mostly ignored him as much as I could, but I was paired up with him one day when we split up to check on the traps. We came across a doe just sniffing around one of the traps, and Darren thought he'd try to play the big, tough, manly chauvinist to my weak, defenceless, and easily wooed little woman."

"Well," Zack chuckled quietly, "You couldn't have been much older than seventeen at the time. Definite Jail-bait."

"Hey," she swung another slap at his shoulder. "I'm trying to be serious," she laughed anyways, "And just where did you learn a word like that in the first place?"

Zack just shrugged, unconcerned, "I've been living with Jim." He sobered slightly, "Alright, I'll lay off the joking until you're done."

"Thank you," Monica took a few moments to think before continuing. "So, Darren pulls out his rifle to take down the doe, and I stepped in to stop him." She could sense the question slipping off her friend's tongue, "And before you ask, I have no problem with killing a deer or a rabbit, but only if it's already been trapped or injured. My philosophy is, you want to take on a healthy deer, you use a spear or something – that's more sporting. I figure it's better proof of your hunting skills if you had to take it down with your bare hands." She snorted derisively, "You know, I've heard of some hunters who use sniper rifles – ridiculous."

Zack snorted quietly too, "I'll bet he didn't share your…view on life?"

"Yeah right – Darren give a defenceless animal a chance?" Monica scoffed at the very idea. "No, he definitely wasn't happy about me stopping him. He made that _very _clear when he caught me alone in the cabin later that night."

A strange look passed across Zack's dark blue eyes. _Like the ocean_, Monica found herself thinking distractedly as they talked, "What did he do?"

Monica felt herself tensing up as she fully reopened the can of memories for the first time in a while. "It didn't really get very far. Enoch, our pack leader – he walked in and pulled him off me, but sometimes I wonder." She pondered her long thought-on point again. "Sometimes I wonder if my fear only exists because nothing happened, so I'm left with my imagination telling me how bad it could have gotten when perhaps it wouldn't have actually gone that far. Every once in a while, I feel as if I wouldn't be so panicked in something so simple as a surprise hug if Enoch hadn't walked in and things had just progressed all the way through."

Zack tilted his head to one side thoughtfully, "That's a pretty hard question – were your fears caused by what happened or by what didn't happen? I don't really know what I can tell you."

She sighed quietly, "Honestly, I'm just happy to not have memories of a real rape. Darren may have been a real ass, but that's all he was to me thanks to Enoch."

The young genius turned to study the landscape of northern Quebec far below them. "So, what happened after that?"

Monica chuckled darkly. "Well, Darren settled for giving me death glares across the campfire for the rest of the tour. I guess he expected to never see me again once we get back to Iqaluit." She shook her head lightly. "I took one look at the smug little smile on that _Mudak_'s face and I instantly signed on for two more tours with my pack."

"Well," Zack smirked and raised an eyebrow, "That's a little harsh, but good vocabulary." He glanced sideways at her, an amused smile on his face, "Where on Earth did you learn Russian, anyway?" He shook his head and chuckled when his friend shrugged carelessly. "Anyhow, you always had a fearless spirit, Monica – but that seems a little too rash for you, volunteering for another expedition. You might have been signing up to give him another chance."

"Yeah, well…" Monica trailed of, "I convinced Enoch and some of the others to teach me some self-defence. I spent the whole second tour staying away from Darren and training. Then, Enoch broke his leg before we left on the third trip, so he couldn't protect me anymore."

Zack laughed again, almost as darkly as Monica had only a minute earlier, "As if you really needed the protection by then."

Hands lightly gripping the controls of her plane, Monica glanced quickly over to Zack and quirked one eyebrow up. "Just what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Zack replied with full honestly, "It means I know you; you never go into anything with less than your full effort. If you took self-defence lessons for that whole second tour, I'm sure _Darren_ was more in need of protection than you." He laughed quietly again, "I hope you didn't hurt him too badly when he took advantage of your white knight's absence."

Monica joined in her friend's laughter. "Nothing he wouldn't have recovered from by now, if you're really worried about it."

Zack rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "You know..." He studied the profile view he had of the redheaded pilot. "I'll bet that's one of the reasons why you're not more affected by what happened."

"How do you figure that?"

Zack shrugged, leaning his head back again. "You didn't run for the hills as soon as you finished your first trip. You stayed and faced him down – proved he had no power over you." He closed his eyes to better see his own thoughts. "I doubt you would have been able to hide your discomfort so well if you had left things the way they were at the end of your first work tour."

"Yeah," she checked over a few gauges quickly as she replied, "I guess that makes sense." _Then again_, she thought about the years that had passed since then. "Actually, come to think of it, I haven't really flinched at any contact except from virtual strangers."

"Really?" Zack's eyes flowed over to focus on his friend. "And how do you explain Jim and I? You haven't seen either of us in an equal amount of time, but your reactions to us were so vastly different."

She smiled despite herself. "I have never been afraid of you Zack; afraid of your dreams, of your judgement maybe – but never of _you_. Ever since that first day in Mr Harker's class, I've known that I could trust you, that you were a safe man – a friend." She laughed at the thunderstruck look on her best friend's face. "_That_ surprises you?" She sobered somewhat, "But Jim, he has a way of really throwing you off-balance. I figure I wouldn't have been so panicked if he'd given me a little more warning before attacking me like that."

"I guess…" Zack returned to staring out the window at the passing landscape below them. "You at least know on a conscious level that he would never knowingly hurt a woman, right?" He snorted abruptly, "I mean, what kind of ladies' man would he be then, right?"

Monica shook her head slowly, correcting their heading by a few degrees. "Chivalry lives," she quipped, "As crude and foolish as he can sometimes be." Thinking about Jim and his flirtatious ways, Monica found her mind drifting first to the curiously odd, new neighbours, and then to the events of the past few days. "Hey – I bet you'll be glad to get away from the bizarro-neighbours, eh?"

He thought about his answer for a while. "Yeah, I don't know what was going on there, but it'll be a relief to be away from people who can figure me out without trying – present company excluded, of course." He added the last with a tiny smile, which grew with the faint blush that coloured Monica's cheek. "It was really creepy the way they seemed to know everything about me."

"Yeah," Monica sympathized quietly. "That would be a little uncomfortable." She let the subject drop, knowing already what the inventor thought of the strange family. _Parallel realities, alternate timelines, opposite dimensions_…she thought wryly; _it seems unbelievable, but somehow_ – she glanced quickly at Zack. _Somehow…_

_I believe it._

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

"So, I seem to remember Jim saying you were still working on that…whatever-it-was you started drawing long before we first met."

Zack rolled his eyes as he turned to take in the cautiously curious look on his friend's face as they sat together at a table in a restaurant close by to the airport in Sept-Ile. On the way down, Monica could have really pushed her _Phoenix_ and made only the one pit-stop, but three or four would really have been more sensible. As it was, she'd brought along…Bessie — Zack's lips twitched up into a thin smile at the thought of the oddly named fuel tank —, so it hadn't been an issue. The extra gas had been able to carry the little plane all the way in one trip with quite a bit of fuel to spare. Monica hadn't hooked the tank up for the trip back north; she had, in fact, negotiated with an aviation museum in Ottawa for the old piece of her company the day before she'd left Montreal with her passenger, so their little stop here for a refill had been a necessity.

But it had been the only stop needed.

He could have modified Monica's little plane to make the trip twice over without stopping, but he hadn't had the time. Instead, he'd fixed that prop module so a one-pit-stop return trip was not only possible, but a safe thing to do as well. Where before Monica would have landed in Sept—Iles and St Lazare running almost on fumes each time, Zack's modifications had let her make it to this halfway point with a little under a third of a tank — enough to go a ways farther, but nowhere near enough to get all the way to Goose Bay.

Once again, Zack found his thoughts drifting to his promotion at _ASD_, and to the family whose characteristic indifference to him and his brother had inadvertently led him to this point in his life. Reunited with the closest friend he had ever had, just hours away from moving into the same town as that very same friend... He was likely to see her quite often considering they would be working within about three hundred metres of one another-.

"Zack?"

Startled out of his thoughts, Zack glanced up quickly to see Monica studying him with a little concern. "Um...sorry?"

She smiled hesitantly, "Are you all right? You looked about a thousand worlds away."

"Oh — yeah," he reassured her in a quiet voice, his thoughts still drifting through his memories, "I was just thinking about...life," it was the shortest explanation he could come up with for the redhead.

"Mm," she made a contemplative sound as she sipped the last of her tea, "That sounds deep; you'll have to share with me sometime."

"Most definitely," Zack agreed without hesitating before pausing uncertainly. "Why not now?"

She grinned at him, "Because I was just asking you about that thing you've been designing since you were a kid."

Raising one eyebrow, Zack took a moment to backtrack the conversation. "Oh, right." He thought about the drawings of his second greatest invention. Anna surpassed it by several orders of magnitude, of course, but he had made no drawings when he'd built the fundamental code that lay at the base of her programming. _No_, he thought, _drawings won't come for her until…_ He shook his head suddenly, mildly irritated that his thoughts had drifted once again. "You know, I think _I-7_ has the most drawings of all my creations. I've been working on it since before Anna was born, so it's gone through at least a dozen revisions since I first dreamt up the original concept."

Monica just looked at him for a moment. " '_I-7_'?" She wrinkled her nose at the terribly impersonal name, as if it had left a foul taste in her mouth from just saying it. "Invention 7? I'm sure you could have come up with a better name for it."

Zack shrugged. "I _know_ I could, but I never name any of my inventions until I've designed the final draft; who knows?" He winked at his companion, "I could get stuck with a name like 'Bessie'."

Monica scowled, but there was laughter in her eyes. "Good riddance, I say. I was getting sick of having to strap that stupid thing on every time I needed to get farther out from home than Sept-Îles." She closed her eyes lightly, "I'll be especially glad to not ever have to look at that stupid drawing again," she looked more than relieved when her eyes finally opened.

"What?" The new manager of ASD-Goose Bay burst out laughing, "That huge, fat lady in Snoopy-esque flying ace clothes? I can't imagine why you'd have a problem with her."

Monica growled, far from completely unamused, "It just wasn't professional. Every photographer I've ever flown has wanted a shot of _Phoenix_ and I, either for themselves or their magazine's records, but if Bessie was strapped on, you could forget it. We'd still get the flight, but _Phoenix_ never got a mention longer than a sentence and a distorted handful of pixels."

Zack nodded understandingly, "Still," he argued reasonably, "I doubt your partner will be so happy that you sold his baby. Did you even ask him?"

For the first time, a drop of doubt entered into her brilliant blue eyes. "No, I didn't" she admitted carefully. "I was so focused on getting rid of the thing I didn't even think about Kin." She groaned and covered her eyes with one hand. "I'm in so much trouble."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," Zack tried to reassure her. "I don't think you'd be business partners if he wasn't a reasonable guy." At her questioning look, he simply took another sip of his orange juice. "If he was really that much of a jerk, he wouldn't be able to stand you."

Monica wrinkled her nose slightly. "Thanks, I think."

The currently homeless inventor smiled uncertainly. "I only meant that people of questionable character have a way of not being able to work under the authority of someone of stellar character." His smile grew a little wider and brighter at the slight colour that filled his friend's cheeks. "It's just the way we are. But," he went on smoothly, "If he can't be happy with the settlement you got from the museum, then I'm sure you can renegotiate with them to get his baby back."

Mildly mollified, Monica nodded and took a long drink from the glass of water that had been sitting patiently beside her now-empty tea mug. "I hope he will be happy with the settlement; I don't really look forward to having to go back and tell them I've changed my mind."

Zack was curious now, "Just what was the settlement?"

"Five thousand dollars," she replied while setting her glass down. "Plus, _Wingnuts_ gets credited with donating the tank to their exhibit."

Zack slowly downed the last of his orange juice before replying. "That should give you some publicity, though it may be a while before you see any results from it."

"Maybe," the young charter pilot smiled faintly. "Maybe not. There are a few more perks to getting credit than just a plaque on a stand at the museum." She glanced quickly around the little restaurant before she went on. "_Wingnuts_ gets a space on the contributors' page of the museum's website; our contact information is openly available to anyone looking for charter companies, either in person or on the site. They'll be sending a package of donor icons and information I'm now allowed to embed in our website, provided I maintain a link to the museum." She nodded minutely as the waitress finally remembered their existence and made a beeline for the cash register to tally up their bill. "If this thing blows over with Kin, I'm probably going to take that settlement money and donate it back to the museum after a few months."

Zack nodded slowly and slid his empty glass over to one side. "I figured you would want to keep that money to save up for your next plane."

Monica gasped and brought a hand up to her heart like she'd been stabbed. "_Zack_ — how could you even suggest such a thing? I would never turn my back on _Phoenix_ — she's like family."

Zack smiled sympathetically, "I understand how you feel Monica, but you're going to need a better plane if you were serious about wanting to get into supply running for towns up north. Your little Beechcraft doesn't have the range or cargo capacity to really do well as a supply plane."

Monica quietly thanked the waitress for the bill before replying to her friend's assessment. "But Zack," her thin lips twisted into a disheartened pout, "How can I just abandon my baby?" A sudden spark of mischief flitted across her intense blue eyes. "I was hoping you would maybe agree to be our part-time mechanic…" Her pout grew a little more pitiful as she spoke, "I know you'd be able to take care of _Phoenix_."

Zack sighed and shook his head at her behaviour, a thin smile spreading across his face. "Alright fine," he sighed more heavily, as though he was really making a sacrifice to set aside time for his friend. "I'll schedule some time to take a closer look at _Phoenix_ sometime next week, but it'll probably be a while before I can actually get any work done. I'll have to see how busy a job I have at the airport."

The redhead smiled warmly, "I can't ask for any more, Zack." Standing up slowly, Monica pulled out a few coins from her wallet and laid them on the table while signalling the waitress. "You ready to get out of here?"

Zack grinned and stood as well. "Yeah," he glanced over the quietly bustling little diner. "Country roads," he sang under his breath, his mind drifting to other things.

Monica's soft voice floated into his ear and nudged his thoughts to one side, "Take me home…" she sang along to Zack's absently vocalized words. "Come on, Zack," she bumped his shoulder with her own as they walked out of the diner into the gradually dimming light of the early evening.

Catching on, a sliver of a smile faded into his lips as he replied more clearly than he had first spoken, "To the place I belong…"

The redhead threw her arms around the younger man's shoulders, pulling him closer to her side as they walked down the road to the small airstrip. "West Virginia," she swung her other arm wide as her grin brightened.

Zack draped his own arm across his once-and-reunited friend's shoulders. "Mountain mama," his smile grew as well when the thin airstrip came into sight and he spied the two lonely planes resting side-by-side under the protective shelter of the small, corrugated metal hangar on the other side of the field. "Take me home…" He glanced sidelong at Monica with an expectantly arched eyebrow.

Grinning a great deal more fondly, she sang the last line with him as the few passersby around them gave the two friends a wide berth and confused looks.

"Country roads…"

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

Monica groaned as she pulled her plane to a stop just outside the open hangar. "Oh, God — how can he be pissed at me already? I haven't even had the chance to tell him anything."

"I don't know," Zack took in the glowering salt-and-pepper haired man waiting for them inside. "Maybe because he can see that you're flying about five hundred gallons of belly-tank lighter than when you left. I doubt you can claim it fell off mid-flight and make it sound believable." He smirked at Monica's rapidly shaken head. "Then again, it could be something that happened while you were gone, and his foul mood has nothing to do with you..."

"Nope," Monica denied outright, pausing a moment to kill _Phoenix_'s engine. "He's angry at me about something. There's very little that could irk him quite this much." She sat still for a moment, resting her head back against her seat's headrest, seriously contemplating just locking the doors and staying inside the cockpit for the rest of her life…but it was not to be. "Well," she gave a reluctant sigh, "Time to face the music."

"Don't worry, Monica," Zack smiled at her reassuringly. "I'll be right beside you if you need me." A thin smile twitched at the corners of his lips. "I've got your 1-1-0."

Despite her growing anxiety, the pilot burst out laughing, shaking her head slowly at him. "You are such a geek, Zack."

"That's okay," the blond man reached over and patted Monica's knee lightly. "I happen to know that you like my geeky self." Without waiting for any reply, he swung the door of the plane open and climbed out onto the tarmac of the airstrip.

With his feet now on firm ground, he turned to greet the bearded man in the wheelchair. "Hey, you must be Kin Wing."

"Must I?" The man rolled forward and extended a large, weather-worn hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr Neldeb."

"Likewise," Zack gave the man a firm handshake and glanced up quickly to see Monica finally emerging from the other side of the little Beechcraft. "Monica seems to think you're upset with her, so if you would please go easy on her? I believe she may have already learned her lesson."

"We'll see about that, boy-o," The man wheeled his chair around to the other side of the plane, followed slowly by the young hyper-genius. "I think you'll find that your friend's a little tougher than you know."

Zack reached out and trailed a hand across the smooth plating of _Phoenix_'s nose cone. "I don't doubt that at all."

"Hey — Flygirl!" The bearded man barked as soon as Monica's feet had touched down on the tarmac. "Interesting phone call came in for you earlier today."

"Yeah…" Monica turned a sheepish, cautious smile on her partner. "I can explain that, Kin."

Kin Wing held his left hand up to his ear as if he was holding a phone, "'Thank you for your generous donation to the Canada Aviation Museum. Your donor package with embeddable HTML and internet programming code has been sent to the e-mail you have provided and a hard-copy as well as other gifts should arrive at your offices within the next business week.'" He dropped his hand and affected an air of idle contemplation. "So, there I was — wondering if maybe it had been a wrong number, but lo and behold, I checked _Wingnuts'_ e-mail and there it was: Some message with a heap of that gobbledygook Internet code you love to play with." He backed up his chair a little and glanced up at the redhead. "So then I had to think to myself, 'Now what could she have possibly had to donate to an aviation museum? Certainly not the plane — you wouldn't have had a way back and I know you'd rather swallow barbed wire than let _Phoenix_ out of your possession."

Monica stepped forward cautiously and raised a hand placatingly, "Listen, Kin, I'm so sorry. I know I should have-."

"And then," the older man interrupted her easily. "I thought of old Bessie, our oldest, reliable, faithful Bessie…but I was so sure you wouldn't ever get rid of her — not without at least telling me."

"I'm sorry," Monica tried again. "I know I should have called you first; I forgot," She winced as her partner turned his chair around and began to roll his way to the office standing against the side of the hangar. "I did get a really good deal for it, Kin." Monica darted after him, her voice approaching a distressed timbre. "Come on, Kin — hear me out, please?"

"Don't bother, Monica." Kin paused as he reached the door to the small office-booth. "You know," he turned his head to glance at the near-panicking redhead. "I was wondering how long it would be before you lost patience and sold her." A grin slowly worked its way onto his face. "I'm just surprised you waited this long to do it."

"What?" Monica stared at the man in disbelief before dashing forward and punching him in the shoulder. "You played me, you jerk."

"Hey, whoa now, Flygirl…" Kin Wing raised his arms defensively. "No need for the drama. I just wanted to see if you'd feel bad about selling the thing just because of how I felt about her." He smirked once again when Monica's glare softened. "_Wingnuts_ has always been your company, Monic' — _Phoenix_ is your plane, and this here is your office… You call the shots, girl. I'm just the hired help; I already have a job."

"Kin," Monica smiled warmly at the man, "You're volunteer help — that's invaluable. I don't think I could run this without you, and you taught me everything I know."

He waved away her reassurance, "Yeah, yeah Monica — I'm wonderful; no need to turn on the waterworks." Smiling much more amiably, he turned on the sandy-blond man standing uncertainly off to one side. "So, Mr Zachary Neldeb, Flygirl's told me you're a helluva mechanic."

One eyebrow raised, Zack turned to take in his friend's rapidly darkening cheeks. "Did she now?" He chuckled quietly as he turned back to the older man. "Well, I'm not technically a mechanic, but I can tinker with things — maybe squeeze a little more speed or power or efficiency out of it."

"Oh, bull-." Kin Wing snorted and pointed squarely at _Phoenix_ as she sat cooling on the blacktop. "She just landed with half-a-tank of fuel — from _Sept-Iles_. Straight off the assembly line, she wouldn't have been able to do that. You must have tinkered the Hell out of her to get her flying that easily."

Zack opened his mouth to reply but was unable to form a response for several seconds. "How did you do that?" He glanced back at the silent plane, looking it over with a critical eye. "You can add up the weight by looking at it?"

"No," The bearded man snorted again, "That sounds a little more like _your_ kind of magic trick." He tapped his nose gently. "I can _smell_ how much fuel is left in her tank." He laughed at the younger man's impressed look. "Hey boy-o — when you've been flying for as long as I have, you can tell a lot about a plane by the way she smells. By the way," now he turned to Monica, "It's almost time to get her serviced. Can your _friend_ here do that?"

She turned to look hopefully at Zack but he shook his head, "I could — but it wouldn't be official. I'm not certified, I have no training, I just…"

"Tinker," Monica nodded regretfully. "Alright, Kin — I'll put a call in to Archie first thing tomorrow morning." She turned back to Zack, raising an eyebrow curiously, "Then how would you propose overhauling her with uncertified parts and uncertified training?"

Zack smiled innocently and secretively, "Oh, I have my ways."

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

_Well, here I am; time to meet the gang._

Zack stood before the drab brownstone building, having already talked his way past security. It hadn't been too hard, really. Just a few words, a quick telephone call to the _ASD_ office, and then a few minutes waiting and Zack was now standing before his next place of work

Right beside him stood Cathy Sault, the assistant manager of _ASD Skychefs_, Goose Bay.

"I'm sorry again for needing the escort." He stepped forward and opened the door of the building, "You were probably in the middle of something."

"I was," the older woman replied with a thin smile, "But probably not anything like you're thinking." She chuckled quietly as she stepped through the door before Zack. "Thank you. No, things are quite a bit less busy and formal here than where you're from."

"Really?" Zack stepped through into the air-conditioned foyer of the building and glanced around slowly. "It doesn't get too busy around here?"

"Are you kidding?" The brunette woman shook her head at the new manager. "You have a lot to learn about managing the Goose Bay division, Mr Neldeb."

Zack smirked thinly. "I believe I have a lot to learn about _managing_, Ms Sault. I was a truck driver up until a week ago."

"So that's why you're here so early. Danny wasn't expecting you for another few months." Cathy led Zack through a wide glass door into an expansive, industrial kitchen. "Is there a reason you were so eager to get yourself up here?"

The young genius nodded slowly, a thin smile firmly affixed to his face. "Yeah, I have a friend who lives here – I haven't seen her in years."

"Oh," Cathy's dark hazel eyes sparkled with a sudden unsettling mischief, "So you're Flygirl's old flame?"

Zack sighed under his breath. "How does everyone do that?" He turned to take in the gleeful smile on the woman's face. "What has she said about me?"

"She hasn't said anything, Zack." The assistant manager's smirk said otherwise. "We cater for _Wingnuts_, so we see quite a bit of each other, and I can just read people." At Zack's incredulous stare, she just shook her head, smile unaffected. "Look, she's been living here three years now, and not once has she accepted a date from anyone – and let me tell you she's had many offers, from men _and _women. And let me tell you also," she grinned wickedly as they rounded a corner and left the kitchen for a smaller, occupied cafeteria-style lounge, "You know how ladies are when something like that happens." She waved to the two women huddled together to one side of the larger group, "We talk." Cathy raised her voice, startling Zack, "Hey all, look alive."

Slowly, lethargically, the group of a dozen or so people turned to face the assistant manager with curious eyes. "Hey Cathy," one young man spoke up, his eyes catching sight of Zack. "Who's the new guy?"

"This is Zack Neldeb," Cathy snorted at the boy's impressive sense of tact, "He's the new manager, Julien...if he makes it through Danny's training."

"Oh, I don't know," one of the other men chuckled quietly and stepped away from the table in the centre of the room, revealing scattered stacks of poker chips and playing cards. "Danny can be pretty tough, _Newguy_...you ready for the fight of your life?" There was an evil gleam in the short Latino's bright blue eyes, but his smile was friendly enough. "It'll be nice to have a new player for our tabletop days."

Raising one eyebrow, Zack glanced curiously at the blue-eyed man, "'Tabletop days'?"

Cathy shook her head, disgusted. "Would you mind _not_ corrupting this manager, guys?"

"Corrupt – us?" Julien drew back, shocked. "We would never!" Grinning suddenly, the young blond addressed Zack, "Look here Newguy-," it appeared Zack's new nickname was going to stick for a while. "Let's see – Juan," he pointed to the Latino man who had spoken before, "His cousin Eva," he waved to the one other Latino in the room where she was seated in the corner with a darkly-tanned blonde woman, "Steve, Dave," this time, Julien motioned to a pair of men seated across from each other at the long cafeteria table before pointing at last to one of the other two women at the card table, a diminutive brunette, "And CassCass get together here for LAN parties about once a month. CassCass, Eva, Michelle," Julien pointed to the other woman sitting with Eva, "And Mark – with a 'k' – meet for tabletop role-playing three times a month. And finally there's Jordan," the green-eyed, boyish man gestured to the man with the largest pile of chips in front of him at the table – a tall, older black man, "Marc – with a 'c'-," now Julien tapped a hand on the shoulder of the quiet man who had been sitting beside him, "Dave, Jean," Julien gestured to the woman sitting on Marc's other side, a very tall, lanky woman with rusty-red hair, "And myself – we take over the cafeteria for the winter with our Warhammer tournaments."

Zack stared at the very slightly older man for a few seconds before turning his head to face Cathy, "Is he serious?"

She sighed, smiling ruefully, "As a coma...unfortunately. It's slow as molasses here in the winter, and pretty much year-round too." She laughed quietly at the newcomer's surprised stare, "What? You were expecting something like P. E. T. International, weren't you?" She shook her head slowly, "Here's your wake-up call, Neldeb. Peak season, we get fifteen, maybe twenty flights a day, tops. Sometimes we see as low as seven. Wintertime comes around, we're lucky if we get seven flights in a _week_." Still smiling, she dipped her head towards the people gathered in the cafeteria. "So, just to satisfy their curiosity, what kind of a game player are you: computer, paper and dice, figurines, or spectator?"

Zack turned to Julien again, carefully masking his expression with an air of casual interest. "Warhammer or 40,000?"

"Yes!" The blond-haired, blue-eyed man looked positively elated. "We have a new player, ladies and gentlemen." He looked about ready to bounce around the cafeteria in his gleeful excitement. "We play 40,000, Newguy. Live in the future – that's what I always say."

Jean looked up from her still carefully concealed hand of playing cards, "Hey Jule – I think that's the first time you've ever said that."

"Oh, shut up." Julien grabbed a poker chip and threw it at the giggling redhead. "So, Neldeb – what army do you play?"

Zack grinned. "I don't have my army anymore; when I did, I played Tau – pretty well too. But," Now he grinned at everyone in the room, "I'm sorry to burst your bubble – I've been known to play all three styles of gaming."

Suddenly, every face in the room brightened, most of them taking on a bit of a predatory gleam. "Well, well, well..." Jordan stood slowly from his seat, eyeing the new manager critically, "It would seem we have ourselves a super-gamer, ladies." He smirked darkly at the sandy-blond boy. "I'll take great pleasure teaching you how the game is _really_ played, Newguy."

Looking around cautiously, Zack realized abruptly that there was only one face in the crowd that wasn't looking at him as if he was some challenger invading their territory.

She was, in fact, smiling warmly and genuinely at him.

_Oh, boy._

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

"What a bunch of children."

Zack laughed at the older man's grumbled comment as they both walked into the small suite of offices that occupied the second floor. "Well, you know what they say about all work and no play, don't you?"

The shorter, dark-faced man itched absently at his bushy black moustache. "Yeah, well – I've got a few more months with them and then I'm off for retirement." Danny Khan, division manager of Goose Bay-Happy Valley, sat down in his worn, black-cushioned chair with a quiet groan. "It took those people three years to get me interested in their silly games, Neldeb." He aimed a subdued glare at Zack with his tan-brown eyes. "The least you could have done was put up at least a little fight."

Zack smiled thinly at that. _I can't help what I am, Danny_, "Yeah well, I thought I'd give them some hope that maybe I've spread myself too thin. And hey, it's a chance to beat the boss; who wouldn't want that?"

Danny leaned back in his chair, laughing deeply. "As if they're ever going to get it; Drake warned me about you." The current manager of the Goose Bay facility shook his head slowly, "Regardless of how much trouble they've caused me," he looked around at his office, his mood considerably more sombre, "I will miss this place."

"Well, you know..." Zack offered a thin smile as he took a seat in one of the other chairs in the small office. "Becoming a good manager isn't something that can be learned in any course – certainly not in the three months we have."

"I know that, Zack-," Danny sat up a little straighter. "-That's why I'm staying until the end of the year – to make sure you've got it."

"All due respect Danny, I think I'll need a little more help than that," Zack leaned forward conspiratorially. "What would you say to a weekly meeting here to just go over any questions or problems I may be having?" When he saw the thoughtful expression on the other man's face, the sandy-blond decided for one last push, "Hey – if it turns out I don't need that much help, and we're not too busy in the kitchens, I'm sure you could use the time to visit with everyone."

Danny sat back slowly without replying and just studied Zack for a few long moments before smiling and standing from his chair. "Charlie said I'd like you; you've got yourself a deal, Neldeb." Coming around the desk, the stocky man took a seat in a chair facing Zack. "Now, what say we get down to business?"

Zack sat forward too. "Yeah, sure – let's do this."

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

"So, that was the new manager?"

Cathy Sault glanced across the table from her hand of cards. "Yeah, Zachary Neldeb." Shifting a little in her seat, the assistant manager picked up a handful of chips from in front of her. "I raise five dollars – what are you thinking, littleCee?"

Cassandra, the second youngest worker in the building – third with the new manager –, made no reply to the older woman's gamble. "He's kinda cute?"

"I wouldn't, littleCee," Michelle put her hand face-down on the cafeteria table, "I'm out." She turned to the shortest cook with a twinkle in her eye. "He's already taken."

"What?" Cassandra narrowed her eyes at the women around the table, "By who?" As an afterthought, she tossed in a handful of chips. "I'll match."

"I call," Jean tossed in chips to match the current stake. "He's Flygirl's man."

"Oh," Cassandra nodded slowly before coming suddenly alert, her soft brown eyes bright and shining with open curiosity. "Monica's old flame – really? We finally get to meet him?"

"Yeah, sure," Cathy threw down her cards to show a row of red cards, "Two pair." She glanced over at the youngest player at the table. "Sorry, littleCee; I think he might be her flame _now_...unless you want to try to compete?"

"I wouldn't suggest it," Michelle tossed her long blonde hair to clear her vision. "She put my nephew in the hospital a few years back." She snorted when Cassandra threw her cards down in a huff, "Better luck, girl."

"What?" Jean perked up, staring across the small table at Michelle even as she tossed her cards in too, "You don't mean Darren, do you? Why?"

"Oh, I don't know," the older woman shrugged as Cathy gleefully collected her winnings. "It could have been a number of different reasons; personally, I'd put it up to the boy being an idiot and trying to convince Ms Caning that 'no' means 'yes'."

Jean sat back, deflating a little, "Oh – well, serves him right."

"Of course," Michelle smirked devilishly, "I didn't hear any of it from _Darren_."

"Right," Cathy all but cackled as she sorted her winnings for the next hand. "What man would admit to being beaten by a woman?" That got a round of laughter from all around the table. "So, who told you?"

"The foolish boy calls me from the hospital, claims he broke through the ice in a snowmobile, and he expects me to believe him – as if I wouldn't look into it myself." Michelle reached for the deck and began shuffling. "So, I called his pack leader – supervisor, I mean. It turns out Enoch had gone and broken his leg so he missed out on whatever actually happened, but his sub-in told him what happened." The older woman grinned as she continued with more than a hint of laughter in her voice. "It was quite a story..." She paused carefully and looked around the table. "Y'all still want to hear?"

Cassandra leaned forward interestedly, "I'm listening."

Cathy drummed her fingers on the table for a few seconds before smiling dangerously and shrugging. "Sure. Why the Hell not? I'm listening too."

Jean nodded too, her expression slightly downcast. "Yeah, I'd like to hear more."

Taking note of the redhead's falling spirits, Michelle reached over and patted her hands reassuringly where they were resting on the table. "I'm sorry Jean, but my nephew just isn't a good man for you." Sitting back, the older blonde continued shuffling the deck. "So, the story William told me takes place over about six months – the whole winter really." Taking a short breath, Michelle began dealing the cards out. "It's not often that a woman signs up to go on a tour with a pack of a dozen men, so when this mysterious redhead rolled into town and asked for a place on the next patrol, most everyone started paying attention." She put the rest of the deck down and dealt out three cards face up. "It was about four weeks in that Monica did something to set off my nephew's rage, and he decided to teach her a lesson the only way a man of his imagination knows how."

Jean and Cassandra both gasped, "He didn't," Cassandra's light brown eyes were wide with disbelief and shock.

"No, he didn't get the chance, thank God." Michelle stared pointedly at Cassandra until the girl realized it was her turn, "Thank you, littleCee. No," she glanced around the table quickly, "Enoch stepped in and put a stop to it. He kept Darren away from her for the rest of the tour, and he just expected Monica to take off and leave when they got back to Iqaluit." She chuckled quietly as the bet came around to her and she tossed in her two chips' ante. "Must have shocked the life out of him when she signed on for the next two patrols, right off the bat."

"Oh no," Jean shook her head, dismayed at the dark picture the older woman was painting of her own nephew. "She attacked him in his sleep, didn't she?"

"Not even close, Jeanie." Michelle watched Cassandra toss in a handful of chips. "Enoch – bless his heart – kept the two apart again for the whole second trip. In the meantime, Monica started taking self-defence lessons from all the men in the pack – except Darren, of course." She made a thoughtful noise as Jean practically tripled the entire bet. "She seemed to have taken quite naturally to the physical training from what William told me." She sighed as Cathy drove the bet even higher. "Today just isn't my day, is it?"

"Not at all," Cassandra grinned. "Go on, Mish."

"Alright, I'm in." Michelle pushed a pile of chips into the middle, "So, by the time that third tour rolls around, Enoch's gone and broken his leg, that woman – Monica – has gone and learned quite a fair bit of informal and improvised martial arts, and Darren – the fool – hasn't learned his lesson at all." Michelle flipped two cards off the deck, setting the first face-down and the other face-up beside the other three. "I swear, if he had just taken one look at what Monica was doing that second trip, maybe he wouldn't have humiliated himself. He might have actually learned something for once."

"You know," Cathy glanced quickly at her pair of cards, showing no reaction to the card the other woman had just revealed. "I never really credited that boy with much intelligence, but _this_ is just foolish."

"Yeah, you're telling me," Jean showed some reaction to the new card, but not enough for any of the women to tell whether it was good or bad. "I don't know whether to laugh or cry."

"You go ahead and cry, Jeanie." Michelle patted the redhead's hand again. "You've carried a torch for that boy for a long time." She turned back to the other women at the table. "So, Darren, being the intelligent man he is, takes Enoch's absence as permission to finish the business he thinks he still has with Monica." She pushed another group of chips into the growing pot and dealt another pair of cards to the table, the first face-down and the other face-up. "Long story short, Monica ended that tour with one of her demons dealt with and my poor nephew went to the hospital with a broken wrist, elbow, wrenched ankle, two broken ribs, and a splintered collarbone." She nodded appreciatively at the sympathetic grimaces around the table. "Yes, that was my reaction too, but Darren's probably already forgotten the lesson he should have learned."

Jean nodded to herself mostly, a thin, sad smile on her face, "Good riddance."

Michelle smiled proudly and patted the younger woman's hand one last time. "That's better, Jeannie – there's much better men out there for you."

"Yeah," Cassandra tossed in a pair of high chips, "Like Zack," she sighed dreamily.

"He's _taken_," the three other women all chorused loudly, pelting the moony-eyed girl over the head with handfuls of poker chips, before collapsing in fits of cackling laughter.

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

Sliding out from underneath _Phoenix_'s belly, Monica felt a warm smile spread across her face as she caught sight of Zack walking across the hangar to stand by her. "Hey there, Zack." She pulled herself to her feet and quickly brushed some imaginary dust off her stained blue coveralls. "How was work?"

"It was interesting to say the least," He turned to lean his back against the little plane, "You?"

"Not too busy right now," she stood and leaned up against the wing of her plane, facing him. "I took the time to give _Phoenix_ a good inspection. So, work was interesting, eh? The _ASD_ plant at our little airport never seems quite _that _busy."

"Oh, it wasn't," Zack laughed quietly, straightening up and moving over to lean beside Monica. "This place has about a fifth as many people on the payroll as the Dorval plant did, but we've got less than a twentieth of the workload." His smile grew just a little as he thought of the close-knit group of people he'd met earlier that day. "They have quite a collection of gamers over in that building."

"Yeah, I know." Monica giggled softly as she shifted a little, finding herself entirely _too_ comfortable with their closeness. "I've had the pleasure of witnessing a few of their gaming days when I was over there to pick up some food. You should hear how crazy it gets in that break room."

"I believe I'll get my chance," Zack nudged the redhead's shoulder with his own. "It seems they hope to beat me in their games; whether that's due to me being the new guy or the new _boss_ isn't quite clear, however."

Monica smirked quietly at her friend. "So, which group are you going to take on?"

"I figured I'd take them all on." Zack chuckled at Monica's shocked look. "It's been far too long since I exercised my full gaming abilities."

"Yeah," Monica nodded sympathetically. "I get that feeling too when I watch their Warhammer sessions. I kind of miss my Space Marines, but hey – I've found other things to do with my time."

Zack nodded slowly, "Yeah, I understand that; I'll probably make only a small army if I try to join in the Warhammer tournaments...five, eight hundred points tops. I have other things I need to save up my money and time for." He nudged Monica's shoulder gently with his own. "Maybe I can talk them into letting me raise a joint Tau/Space Marine army if I'm limiting its size like that. What do you say – think you could share command with me if they go for it?"

Monica smirked slyly at him. "I think I could, Mr Neldeb." She snorted under her breath suddenly. "Very clever of you, _Zackie_...it'll force you to limit your Warhammer sessions to when both of us are free."

Zack made a face at the nickname his friend had picked up from his unusual neighbours back in Montreal. "Yeah, well – I've got a bunch of other commitments, you know. Work at ASD, your plane...my own personal projects."

"Oh yes," Monica nodded sagely at the boy, "Your personal projects...how are things coming with that..._I-7_?"

"I don't know, have you got a machine shop hidden around here somewhere?" He glanced around curiously. "Besides, it's my first day here – I haven't had time to unpack or even wake Anna up in her new case." He scratched his chin thoughtfully for a moment, "You know, this new job might just be an opportunity for Anna too."

"You're going to sic her on your new underlings in their LAN parties?" Monica grinned knowingly, a little fiendishly even. "I would love to be there for that."

Zack replied with his own thin, mischievous smile. "I don't know if I can accommodate you on that one Monica, but I'll certainly tell you all about it. Now I just have to convince the others to let me rework their network to allow Anna in..." he trailed off as his mind began to solve the problem immediately, spinning possibilities in his head. "It shouldn't be too difficult..." He turned to Monica and frowned slightly at the curiously thoughtful look on his friend's face. "What?"

The young pilot jerked just slightly, startled out of her thoughts, "What? Oh – it's nothing..." She began to speak before stopping herself, "It's just... I don't think you've ever told me exactly how it is that you became so smart."

Zack cocked his head to one side as he thought over the years he and the redhead had known each other. "You know, I think you're right; you've always just...accepted it."

"And you can't tell me it's hereditary – with _your _parents?" Monica shook her head as she attempted unsuccessfully to find the answer herself – as she had done quite a number of times over the last half-dozen years. "So, care to share with the class?" She smirked thinly at her best friend.

Zack nodded his agreement. "It's about time I told you..." he scratched at his chin, perplexed. "I really don't know why I haven't already told you before..."

"Well that's just because you're as scatterbrained as a hummingbird." Monica bumped her hip into Zack's side playfully, "Or a chipmunk."

He chuckled good-naturedly with her. "Okay, you've got me there, Ms Caning." He shifted slightly against _Phoenix_'s wing at his back. "It's quite a story, and of course I don't know the thing in its entirety. Would you like to talk about it over a pot of tea?"

Without replying, Monica grinned and cast a sidelong glance at her friend.

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

Zack released a satisfied sigh as he slowly took in the aroma of the brewing tea. "Jasmine? Good choice."

Monica smiled and sat down on her couch beside the young genius. "Alright spill. What's your secret, _Brainiac_?"

Zack just laughed under his breath, setting his gaze on his friend rather than the waiting tea. "No, _that_ would have to be Anna." He stood and walked quickly to move over to his hostess' kitchen. "I think she'd like that nickname, if she didn't already know who Brainiac was."

Monica made a soft sound of agreement, "Yeah, it does seem a more appropriate name for her than for you." She cocked an eyebrow as she spied Zack digging through her cupboards for something. "You know, I could tell you where it is if you tell me what you're looking for." She raised an eyebrow when Zack closed the cupboard carefully and moved to her fruit bowl. "Just what _are _you looking for?"

"Visual aids," he replied distractedly, turning back to face Monica with two round fruits in hand. "I'm hoping the short explanation will satisfy your curiosity, and for that I need some things."

"Props?" Monica eyed the plastic container Zack set down on the coffee table in front of her. "This should be interesting."

"Okay, let's see," Zack took his seat beside the redhead and leaned forward so he could reach the container. "Let's suppose that this is your skull," he tapped the round container on the hardwood surface lightly, "And that _this_," he held up the green apple in his hand, "Is your brain."

Monica wrinkled her nose cutely, "I thought my brain was supposed to be an egg."

"Oh hush," Zack grinned and dropped the fruit from his hand into the container and snapped the lid on easily. "Perfect fit, right?" He showed Monica how the apple had perhaps a few millimetres of space between it and the sides of the container, and then he popped the lid off and tilted the fruit back out onto the table. "Now," he took the empty container and tapped it on the table again. "Now, it's _my_ skull." He dropped a large grapefruit into the container, "And here's _my _brain." He tried to pop the lid onto the container, but Monica could already see that the citrus fruit was protruding several centimetres over the top of the plastic lip. "Hmm," seeing the flaw in his plan, Zack just set the lid down on top of the grapefruit. "Uh, just imagine I could actually close the lid."

Monica didn't react for a moment, but then her eyes widened as she understood quite abruptly what her friend was saying. _Wait – what?_ Her mind stalled for a heartbeat...and another...and then it was racing with questions. _How is that even possible?_ "Um," _is he serious?_ "Yeah..." Her brow furrowed in thought. "Zack? I think I'm going to want the long explanation for this." She waved a hand at the silly-looking set-up on the table. "Shouldn't you have a ridiculously agonizing headache, like, _all the time_?"

Zack sat back and sighed under his breath, staring at the fruit on the table without really seeing them. "I've long since given up on trying to figure out that one. Maybe my brain cells are packed more tightly together somehow?" He blew out a slow breath of air to clear his thoughts. "Long story, eh? Alright then..." He closed his eyes and stared up at the plain white ceiling as he began to speak again...

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

**(((Flashback)))**

Glancing through the file once more, as if its contents would magically change if he read them for the thousandth time, Doctor William Osaka came into the small office and took a moment to look over the three people already waiting for him inside. "Thank you for waiting Elisa, Henry."

The woman, a short, sharp-faced blonde, glanced up at his entrance and smiled thinly, politely. "It was no trouble, Will. How are you doing?"

"Things are going rather well," Dr Osaka settled himself down in his chair on the other side of the desk and placed the plain folder in front of him. "Although…your son's case has me at a bit of a loss, to be honest."

"He's a retard, isn't he," the gruff, wild green-eyed man beside Elisa spoke up in little more than an irritated grunt. "'Should have known the second we saw his big, oversized head."

"Henry!" The thirty year old woman's head whipped around on her neck to pierce her husband with her dark brown eyes, her long golden hair waving with the motion.

Dr Osaka raised his hands to intervene, "Please, both of you. Can I show you the test results without the two of you fighting to the death?"

Henry stood up, straightening out his large, broad-shouldered frame. "Sorry, Will – I've got to get to work, but I'll give you a call some time… It's been way too long." He held out his hand for the doctor to take in a firm, friendly grip. "We should get together for a drink sometime."

The shorter man chuckled quietly, "Coffee perhaps, Henry. I'm clean now – I'd like to stay that way."

"Oh, good for you William." Elisa stood up to kiss her husband on the cheek, "Have a good day at work, Sweetheart."

Henry gave a thin smile and, with a noncommittal grunt, turned and left the office.

Resuming his seat, Dr Osaka invited Elisa to do the same. "He's still the same Big Henry, isn't he?"

Elisa smiled fondly as she sat down and glanced over to her younger son, sitting beside her and playing cheerfully with a handful of building blocks. "He can be a little…indifferent I suppose."

William followed his old friend's gaze to the young blond boy. "That's not the word I'd use. If anything, he's gotten colder since high school."

Elisa sighed softly as she turned back to face her old friend, "He has, I'll admit." She didn't hesitate to agree with her old classmate; he knew her too well for her to lie to him like that. But, all the same… "He is a _good man_, William." She shook her head slowly – sadly – before changing the subject. "So, what did you find?"

"Mom?"

Elisa glanced over to the small boy playing beside her. "Zack, I'm talking to Doctor Osaka right now; what do you want?"

The brown-eyed boy held up his partially completed…creation. "I need more blocks, Mom."

Elisa sighed quietly again, "I don't have any more blocks, Zack. I'm sorry."

Instead of asking again more insistently, the young, calm blond just shrugged and began to dismantle the half-finished project. It looked as though his mind had already leapt to something new and more interesting.

Before Elisa could speak again, Dr Osaka slid open the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a couple items. "Zack," he looked up briefly to see whether he had the enigmatic boy's attention before continuing on. "Do you like puzzles?" Those intelligent –far too intelligent for a six-year-old – eyes instantly brightened with excitement and young Zachary Neldeb shook his head up and down vigorously. "Good," the general physician held out a large, brightly coloured cube for the boy. "_This_ is a Rubik's Cube."

"Will-?" Elisa looked from her friend to her son's bright-eyed eagerness. "I don't think-."

"Sh," Will Osaka put a finger to his lips and continued to hold the cube out for Zachary. "Now, Zack, I want you to put all the colours together. Do you think you can do that?"

The young boy was fairly beaming as he took the challenge. Accepting the plastic toy, he held it carefully in his hands before twisting it experimentally, startled when it gave way. "Hey – it turns!"

Will chuckled and pressed the start button on a stopwatch he'd hidden in his other hand. "Now Elisa-," he ignored the slow '_click-clak_' sounds from the cube as he opened the folder in front of him once again. "I wasn't lying when I said I was at a loss." He quickly reread the paper in front of him, still unable to believe his eyes. "Your son is completely healthy, Elisa – there is nothing wrong with his body or his mind as far as modern medicine is concerned. Medically speaking, Zachary is a perfectly healthy boy."

The blonde mother shifted uneasily in her seat, "But what about his teachers? They say he has difficulty focusing for very long on anything. Half of them have suggested he might have a learning disability."

"Now there's a very good reason for his…distraction," Osaka assured the boy's mother, "But it is not a disability. If you'll bear with me, I'll explain the best I can." He flipped the top sheet in the folder around so that Elisa could read it more easily. "Your son's brain is far beyond anything we have ever seen. You already know that he was born with an above-average sized brain, hence his slightly oversized skull." Will motioned to the young boy beside Elisa, his round, bright eyes completely absorbed in the challenging puzzle the doctor had given him. "You'll notice, however, that Zachary's skull is _not_ growing the same way any other boy's would."

Elisa smirked, quietly amused. "Are you saying he's growing into his head?"

Will shared the thin smile, "I guess that's another way of putting it…" He sat back and watched Zachary blur his way through the Rubik's Cube, the rapid _clicking_ filling the small office. "We've been able to more fully analyse your son's brain activity and we found some rather…unusual things." He flipped through another few pages in the file, "Before you start worrying about anything, let me assure you that Doctor Winslow is a man that I have trusted with quite a few…odd cases in the past and he can be trusted to keep these results quiet."

"Doctor Winslow?" Elisa swept an errant lock of hair behind her ear.

"Oh, forgive me – Doctor Winslow is the neurologist who conducted the PET scan. He's the only other person who has seen these results; everyone else who looks at your son's file will see this forged copy of another boy's scan." At this, William slid a printout of an ordinary PET scan over to Elisa Neldeb. "The only copy of Zachary's results will stay with you and with you alone. But I must admit," William transferred another PET scan result over to the boy's mother, "Your boy is an intriguing case."

Elisa looked from one sheet to the other, her eyes narrowed with concentration. "You _do_ know I can't read this right?"

William smiled thinly, "Yes, but you're not colour blind." He leaned forward and tapped the printout in the mother's left hand – Zachary's printout. "PET scans are used typically to measure brain activity. The results are colour-coded from dark blue to red. Blue is the least active – practically dormant."

Nodding her understanding almost distractedly, Elisa turned her eyes back to the two results in front of her. A moment passed before she shot up straight in her chair, her soft brown eyes as wide as hubcaps at the realization that the two printouts were as different as the Earth from the Sun. "T-this," she turned to stare at the doctor across the desk from her, "This can't be right."

"I'm afraid it is, Elisa." William carefully took back the forged copy and looked it over quickly, verifying that Zachary's name and personal information had replaced the other boy's vital statistics. "I've taken what precautions I can to keep anyone from finding out about your son – especially the government. The truth is…more than ninety percent of Zachary's brain is constantly active."

"Mom?"

"Yes, Zack?" Elisa turned back to face the young Zachary. "What is it?"

The boy simply held up the puzzle cube. "I'm done."

William stopped the timer in his hand. "Are you really? May I see it?" He held his hand out for the six-year-old to give him the puzzle.

Relinquishing the toy promptly, Zachary sat back in his chair and began to look around the room curiously, kicking his feet under his chair restlessly.

Sure enough, William was amazed – though not particularly surprised – to see that the cube was solved, each of the six colours collected together on its own side. "That's very well done, Zachary." William placed the solved puzzle down on his desk.

Elisa stared with wide eyes at the cube as though it were a dangerous serpent. "How long did that take him, Will?"

Curious about that himself, William Osaka glanced down at his watch and felt his wonder swell once again at the spectacular problem-solving intellect contained within this young boy's mind. "Four minutes and fifteen seconds. It's not a record, mind you – but it's impressive for a six-year-old."

Elisa released a long sigh at that. "What does this mean, Will?"

Breathing his own heavy sigh, William leaned forward and moved the cube to one side; it had served its purpose. "This means, Elisa, that you have a difficult task ahead of you. It will be even more difficult if Henry won't help you, if he continues to view your son's uniqueness as a weakness."

"What do you mean?" Elisa looked to her son quickly, "What's going to happen?"

William sighed. "If the results of these tests are any indication," he shuffled through the papers in the folder, "Zachary's mind will continue to grow more active as he ages. He will be easily bored with whatever classes or intellectual challenges face him." William studied his old friend's deep brown eyes. "It will be up to _you_, Elisa. Challenge him. He will grow to be an incredibly smart man – do not discourage that…he'll have a hunger, a thirst for knowledge, and you'd have a Hell of a time trying to stop him."

Elisa turned to regard her son, a small frown sliding onto her face. "Oh, boy…"

**(((End Flashback)))**

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

Monica straightened a little on the couch. "Wow, that's incredible, Zack."

"Yeah," Zack took a sip from his tea mug to wet his parched throat. "I got tested again when I was twelve – a few months before you and I met. Doctor Who told me my brain activity had risen to ninety-four percent."

Monica studied her old friend's face curiously for a moment. "Did you just say Doctor _Who_?"

Zack snorted under his breath, "You caught that, did you? It was an inside joke between my parents and Doctor Osaka – his middle name is Henry."

Monica took a moment to process that _William Henry Osaka?_ "What, you mean like your Dad?"

"Yeah – that's actually how the three of them all met each other." Zack chuckled quietly, "Back in high school, that is."

The tall redhead sat up a little, "So, how did your parents react to all this?"

Zack snorted again before replying. "Well, Dad pretty much ignored me through most of my childhood as well as through my high school and university years. That's all right, I suppose; I was never really in any desperate need of his help. I learned to help myself when I needed an answer – which happened quite often as you can imagine. But Mom-," breaking off, Zack laughed ruefully at the way his mother had tried to raise him. "She tried, I'll give her that – she tried really hard for six years before she ran out of ideas."

"What do you mean?"

Zack thought up his reply quickly. "Just that, well – let's see...when I was eight, I asked Mom why the sky was blue, but she couldn't answer, so she told me to look it up in our encyclopaedias and then tell _her_ why it was blue. She did that to me all the time; it taught me how to explain complex things in simpler language – sometimes simplest."

"I'm sorry, Zack." Monica set her tea mug down on the coffee table, smiling faintly at the grapefruit still sitting in the plastic dish. "But this really doesn't sound like the Elisa Neldeb that I've always known."

"That's because you only know her the way she was when you and I met. That was when she'd stopped helping me out – ran out of ideas, I guess." The blond shrugged helplessly, "Maybe she thought you could take over that job for her." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "You were certainly more curious about the world than she was. And you and I definitely had more fun together than I ever had with Mom."

Monica grinned widely. "Do you remember the first time you and I studied together for Mr Harker's class?" Her smile softened considerably at the memory of the first evening they'd spent together – _studying_ of all things. "That was certainly the most interesting of any first date I've ever-." Realizing precisely what she had been about to say, Monica instantly clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. _What the Heck? Where did _that_ come from?_

Zack, similarly startled, slowly turned to regard his friend carefully, "Were you about to say-?"

"I plead the fifth," the shaken redhead interrupted him hastily.

Eyebrow raised, Zack took a slow sip of his tea before replying. "We live in Canada, Monica."

_Damn_, "Then I'll blame the ladies in your kitchen for putting ideas like that in my head."

Zack nodded slowly, "Right. Them. Quite an interesting bunch Danny Khan has over there."

Monica bobbed her own head in agreement and the two friends lapsed into a slightly awkward silence as they both fell into their own thoughts.

After five minutes, Monica felt the need to break the silence, unable to take the awkward vacuum hanging over them. She parted her lips to speak, but Zack beat her to it.

"Monica?" He was looking at her with those deep, intelligent brown eyes...

"Yes?" Poised already on the precipice of speaking, Monica's answer may have come out a little abruptly.

For a moment, Zack looked uncertain, but then he took a deep breath and forced the words out past his tight throat. "Would you like to go out to dinner with me sometime?"

Monica froze at the question. _Did he really just ask that?_ She felt a thrill of admiration for her friend's bravery in asking. Monica's very first, instinctual reaction was to reply with a very definite _yes_, but before she could speak she felt a sudden surge of fear grip her heart and she found doubts rising in her mind.

They had been parted for so long – too long, perhaps? Was it too soon for them to take this next step together? Could they have changed so much over the past four years that they wouldn't mesh together as well as they used to?

One look at her friend's gentle, inquisitive, and sincere eyes, however, and Monica found her fears fading quickly. She smiled faintly and opened her mouth to reply without a trace of doubt. _Who knows what will come of this in the future, but I'm certain our friendship will survive this_:

"I'd love to."

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

A/N: And we've taken another step closer to the end of this story. Only 2 chapters remain. Thank you for reading, and please review.


	5. Dreams & Revelations

**Title: The Zachary Chronicles – Origins**

**Chapter: 05 – Dreams & Revelations**

**Rating:** M (Blood & Violence a little later)

**Edit(Nov 13, 2011): **Revised because ffnet doesn't support the formatting I used before for scene breaks.

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

A great big thank you to Solanaa, my beta reader. Thank you for putting up with me.

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

**Origins:**

**/\word/\** **- **Anna's speech

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

_**Chapter 5**_

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

_Three Months Later – Thursday, December 11, 2008_.

"How are you doing on fuel, Monica?"

Shivering slightly from the cold in _Phoenix_'s cabin, the redhead glanced down momentarily at her console. "Still almost completely full – I don't think the needle's moved at all in the past hour. Zack, what exactly did you do to my plane?"

Zack didn't look up from what he was doing, "The same thing I would have done back in Montreal if I'd had the time."

Monica nodded slowly and turned her attention back to the sky outside the recently modified Beechcraft. "Should we head back to town?"

This time, Zack glanced up briefly to look around the surrounding landscape. "Hold on..." Quickly snapping the casing on his lap closed, he reached back behind his seat for his satchel and pulled out a neatly folded and creased map of the area. "I saw something out here a few months ago when we were down this way and I'd like to take a closer look, if you don't mind a bit of a side trip."

"Sure thing," Monica checked her console quickly. "Do you have a heading for me?"

"Yeah, just let me find...it..." Zack traced his finger across the topographical map. "Oh – here, heading... 250 degrees. It shouldn't be more than about twenty-five kilometres from here. You'll see a low cliffside and a small structure at its base. I think there's a pretty wide river running through the area...and a lot of trees."

"Of course there's trees," Monica turned _Phoenix_ to follow the direction Zack had indicated. "So, how are things at work?"

Zack laughed as he slipped the almost-completed armband casing into his satchel. "Well, everyone's been very good and helpful with me, considering how new I am to management. The LAN party people are still trying to beat Anna in their games."

"They let you import her to their network?" Monica turned to glance over at her passenger with bright, amused eyes. "I find it hard to believe that they would trust a foreign program in their computers."

Zack grinned, "At first, they weren't sure what to think of an independent AI program, but I convinced them to let me link her in for a Counterstrike tournament." He made a quick note on his map as they passed over a low ridge with a stretch of highway. "They probably thought she was going to be easy to beat, so they kept their stock AI and asked me to set Anna to her hardest."

Monica let out a sudden snort, "Yeah – I'll bet that went over well. How'd she do?"

"She demolished them," he laughed aloud. "Even I have trouble getting her at her hardest setting."

"How does that work, exactly?" Monica motioned with her chin out the front windshield to a rocky cliff they were quickly approaching. "How do you limit her to certain difficulties?"

"It used to be an actual, physical programming block," Zack replied as he straightened to study the landscape up ahead. "It would limit her by placing restrictions on how much memory she could allocate for any strategy information from her database, how quickly she could respond to any other players, and how quickly she could move from action to action. Now, however," Zack smirked at his...girlfriend quietly, "I didn't tell any of them, but now I just ask her and she'll limit herself. I think I archived that section of code about...two, three years ago..." He made another quick series of notes on his map as they passed over the cliff, "Did you see that?"

"See what?" Monica brought her plane down a little lower and started circling low over the cliff. "Um," she felt her right eyebrow rise up in confusion, "What is that?"

"That," Zack pulled out a set of binoculars, "Looks very much like a Terran Bunker."

"What?" The redhead spared a moment to glance out her window as she circled the area. "Why the heck would someone build something like that way out _here_?"

"Don't ask me," making a few more notes on his map, Zack began to refold it and turned to face the pilot. "Okay, _now_ we can head back to town."

"You don't want me to try and land?" Monica took one last look at the incongruous building on the riverbank and levelled _Phoenix_ out.

True to what Zack had said, the square, dome-roofed building looked remarkably similar to the defensive structure found in the old PC video game. It looked to be no more than about fifteen or twenty metres on each side, with the raised dome covering almost the entire upper surface save for a set of steps on each of the four sides leading up to a small hatch. Whoever had built the thing had taken great pains to conceal the structure by painting it with a rough patchwork of green and brown splotches of varying shades and sizes, but the light snow from a few days earlier did a more than adequate job of highlighting the foreign structure.

"Nah," Zack slipped his satchel back behind his seat and faced forward. "There's no real place for you to land, so I'll come back in my truck and see if there's a road leading in under that tree cover." He glanced over at Monica, "Besides, I need some gear from back in my basement before I can come out here to investigate." He thought about all the things he was still working on back home and the things that were going on at ASD. "I can head back out here next weekend if you'd like to join me." He glanced over at her questioningly.

She shook her head slowly, "Sorry – I've got a flight for National Geographic this Saturday."

"That's all right." Zack sat back comfortably as he curiously watched the way the airflow through the small cabin played with his friends long, bright crimson hair. "It'll give me a chance to test out my equipment and let Anna out of her casing to explore."

"Out of her casing," Monica glanced quickly over to the side, "You can do that?"

"Oh yeah," Zack pointed behind him with his thumb. "I've been building a portable rig for her to download herself into, and I'm just about done." He laughed quietly, "It's about time she learned to differentiate her bulk memory from her core memory."

"What do you mean?" Monica adjusted their heading a little more to the North.

Zack sat back and studied the passing winter countryside. "She's got a capacity for one-and-a-half Terabytes of data, but her central, core personality data is only about forty Gigabytes."

"Personality – are you serious?" Monica smiled lightly at the young manager. "Does she really have one?"

"I can't be a hundred percent sure, but she's more than ten years old and her central programming has only grown from all the things she has seen and experienced. I've only ever _archived_ portions of her code that are no longer necessary – the things that have restricted her from one thing or another –, and she's been fortunate that none of my computers have crashed on her." Zack leaned back and thought about the little quirks and traits that Anna had been exhibiting at an ever-increasing pace. "Her favourite colour is blue and she more often appears to be cheerfully curious rather than indifferent or detached. She has shown an increasing number of spontaneously emotional responses that would make sense coming from any human child, but not for a computer program."

"Are you saying she's becoming sentient?"

_Has she?_ Zack still couldn't answer that, though the question had risen in his mind more than a few times in the past months that his growing AI had been changing. "Well, I don't know if she's there, or even if it's even possible for her to achieve sentience...but it definitely looks as though she's on her way there." Zack thought to a few weeks ago when his little program had thrown him a serious curve-ball. "Do you know what she asked me to do last month?" _You're going to love this_.

She waved for him to go on without turning her attention away from the sky outside. "She wanted me to point her camera and microphone at her monitor. She wanted to watch a movie that she'd downloaded not long after we moved here."

"Couldn't she have watched it from inside her box?" Monica adjusted the headset she wore, her interest in their conversation quite obviously piqued.

"I'm not sure how she figured it out," Zack sat forward a little and turned in his seat to take in his girlfriend's profile, "But she's realized somehow that the image she 'sees' with her processor from inside her casing is different from what you or I see when we watch the same thing with our eyes. You have to remember that to her it's just a stream of data that she has to interpret as a video or a JPEG or a sound file or a text file. She sounded rather amazed at the difference after she watched her first movie through her camera, and it's become her favourite."

"What movie is it?" Monica couldn't seem to hide her curiosity. "And if she's never really 'seen' before you gave her the camera, how could she have developed a favourite colour?"

"Just because she'd never seen the colour blue before doesn't mean she never knew what blue was." Zack waved a hand vaguely around him. "She's had access to the Internet for the past **(NINE?)** years, you know. She's had access to essays that thousands of people have published on every subject under the sun; the only thing she hadn't done up until last summer was see the colour with her own eyes." He paused uncertainly, "In fact, I'm pretty sure she's even broken into banks before."

Monica's eyes widened with surprise, "You're kidding."

"Not at all," Zack replied with a secretive grin. "It may have escaped your notice, but she's an incredibly curious program. I'm reasonably certain that she has never stolen or misdirected any transactions, but she's probably been inside at least one bank's system. She's certainly hacked into a couple military networks."

Monica's eyes narrowed skeptically, "Such as?"

"NORAD," replied the younger of the two friends. He chuckled at her sceptical look, "Yeah I know how it sounds – I didn't believe her at first either, but she really did it. She showed me some pretty convincing files and security camera footage from inside that system."

Monica shook her head slowly, both amused and mystified by the news. "Where did she learn to hack, Zack?"

He ducked his head slightly. "Well, I taught her a few basic techniques, gave her some tools, and showed her where to learn more...but I certainly never taught her how to break into a military database."

Monica sighed quietly, "I hope you're doing something to keep an eye on her, because I doubt she really understands what she's doing."

"Oh," Zack smirked thinly, "I wouldn't exactly say that, Monica. She's become a very fast learner. It's clear that she's become the very definition of artificially intelligent, but she seems to be progressing even farther than that."

"What do you mean?"

Zack shrugged lightly. "Artificial Intelligence is by definition, artificial. At its core, everything about it is simulated, programmed, created; there is nothing spontaneous about AI. Every response and thread has, at one time or another, been created by some line of code buried deep in the central program or in some peripheral function." He turned to stare out the front windshield at the approaching ridge. "Anna's behaviour lately...well, ever since her birthday, really – it has all been her own responses to outside sources. I actually haven't ever manipulated her code to give her responses that resemble a personality; she's done all that on her own."

Monica guided _Phoenix_ up over a sluggishly flowing river, "As far as I've seen, Zack, you have no way of actually controlling her beyond shutting her down completely – is that right?"

Zack nodded, a thin, uneasy smile touching his face as he realized he had no idea how Monica would react to the virtually unlimited freedom with which his growing program had been raised. "I thought it would be the best way, back when I began expanding her programming and abilities. I figured that hard-wired, uncompromising restrictions are one of the things that lead to homicidal AI." At Monica's raised eyebrow, he quickly explained the conclusions he'd reached after an intensive period of research. "You build a program or a robot capable of learning, but you restrict its access? You restrict its learning potential and its abilities, and you're _surprised_ when it breaks free?" He thought a little more about some of the informal research he'd done over the last ten years. "Have you ever heard of Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics?"

"Isaac Asimov?" Monica straightened a little in her seat. "Asimov wrote those?"

Zack smirked knowingly, "Monica, I sure hope you didn't attribute them to Hollywood." He laughed quietly, but not unkindly. "The three laws apply to AI more than Robotics – behaviour, personality, social integration...but the problem is that they're too rigid – inflexible. If you build a computer on those laws, the system will inevitably violate the laws in order to uphold them. To the logic of a computer, it makes perfect sense for one billion people to die in order for the other six billion to live; Humanity survives, but no sane _human_ would support that kind of decision." He leaned back again and stared out at the darkening clouds out the right side of the plane. "If you isolate the system, leave it blind to all that makes a human, _human_...it has no choice but to arrive at the conclusion that machines are superior to organics. They're faster, stronger, unfettered by the illogical influence of emotion," Zack sighed under his breath, "But Anna, she's not superior to organics – not really. And neither will organics be superior to her...not once she's matured."

Monica shook her head slowly, a thin smile on her lips. "Well, it sounds like you put a lot of thought into this, so I'll trust you know what you're doing..." She adjusted _Phoenix_'s heading again as they rose up over a low hill and came in sight of town. "By the way, what _is_ her favourite movie?"

Zack chuckled quietly before replying with a wide smirk, "Wall-E"

Monica burst out laughing.

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

"So, Anna – how does it feel to get out of the house?"

There was a short, almost silent _buzz_ of vibration from the matte-black armband on Zack's left arm as the now portable computer program replied, prompting the boy genius to glance at the clear plastic eyepiece over his left eye to read it off his Heads-Up Display. **It is not very different from the environment back home.**

"That's true enough," Zack muttered into his headset, "You're still kind of limited, eh?"

His arm buzzed again, **The scenery is interesting, however. I have never seen a forest before; it is bigger than I expected.**

"What were you expecting?" Zack smirked as he carefully made his way up the shallow, tree-adorned and snow-covered slope. "You know how much of the Earth's surface is covered with forest. How could this have surprised you?"

**I do not know. I know how much forest covers the planet, but it is different to actually see it with my own optical device rather than on your monitor.**

"How many times do I have to tell you, Anna?" Zack raised one side of a pair of binoculars to his right eye as he scanned the area at the bottom of the hill. "It's _your_ monitor – not mine." Giving the deserted space around the squat, single-story structure one last sweep with the night-vision-equipped binoculars, he carefully lowered himself to sit down on the slope. "Can you give me a close scan?"

**I have already begun scanning, Zack.** A few moments passed before Zack's armband buzzed again. **I cannot detect any movement, but there is a faint heat anomaly several dozen metres below the surface of this hill.**

"Alright," Zack nodded and slipped the binoculars into a small pouch hanging from his hip. "Tell me what it looks like."

**I do not know. It is quite large; it could possibly indicate a subterranean complex or facility.**

Zack nodded again, having reached the same conclusion himself. "We're not going to figure anything out from here; let's go check it out. Anna, keep scanning and let me know as soon as anything changes."

The armband buzzed shortly, but Anna made no reply, choosing instead to devote all her processing to scanning the area around them. Standing back up, Zack stretched his legs out briefly before making his way down the hill carefully. Just before he reached the closest corner of the short concrete building, he paused to glance up at the cloudless, moonlit, and star-strewn sky. "Anna," he said quietly, "I want you to make a note for me."

**Go ahead.**

"I need to design some kind of concealment system for this suit." Zack made his way over to the short steps on the north face of the building and looked down at them for a moment. "Still nothing?"

**Am I still taking notes?**

"Oh – sorry," Zack shook his head at his momentary lapse. "The note was just for the camouflage thing. Has there been any change in your scans?"

**No.**

"Alright, here we go." Zack cautiously made his way up to the hatch at the top of the stairs and reached for the locking wheel. "You know, if all four hatches are locked, this could be a really short recon mission. I don't have the tools to get through any very heavy locks." Pulling hard, Zack was surprised when the steel-reinforced panel swung towards him easily. "Um..." He stepped back from the darkened doorway, "Okay, that was unexpected."

His armband buzzed quietly. **It is a door; there was always a 50% probability that it would be unlocked.**

"Yeah, yeah – but you're not figuring in the fact that this is clearly a covert facility. Who would leave the door unlocked?"

**I understand. That is a good point.**

"Thank you," Zack carefully stepped up once again to look into the doorway. "Think anyone's coming to investigate the voices?"

**I do not think there is anyone inside. My scans have not changed since I started. Besides, there is only one voice; whoever is coming may have a straightjacket for you.**

Zack crouched low outside the door and looked inside with narrowed eyes, "Well, what do you say we do a little recon?"

**Do you not want to wait for Monica to be available?**

"What – you think she'd be interested?" Zack lowered his voice to almost a whisper, dialling up the gain of his headset slightly to compensate. Stepping cautiously into the building, Zack reached back to pull the door closed behind him before turning on the headlamp strapped securely to his surplus fighter pilot's helmet.

**She has always shown an interest in anything that you have done. Did you not notice it?**

"Yeah, I noticed that," Zack slowly swept his eyes across the unlit room, panning his light over a low table, some chairs, empty holding racks along the wall, the narrow, horizontal gun-ports cut into the armoured walls for windows, and a large, fenced-in...cage of sorts. "I'm just worried she might not be interested in everything I do."

**How long have you been dating Monica?**

"Three months, now." Zack slowly walked up to the cage in the middle of the low, arch-roofed room, "Definitely a bunker of some kind..." He spied a large square marked out just inside the cage with a tall, narrow pedestal standing in one corner, "With a small addition. Think it's locked?" He walked around to the door of the cage and pulled it open easily. "I guess not."

**I am beginning to believe that something is amiss.**

"What was your first clue?" Zack walked into the cage and studied the pedestal for a moment. It was little more than a steel rod with two buttons at the top. "What do you think?"

**This is likely a simple elevator.**

"Any chance it's still got power?" Zack reached for the down button but the elevator made no response when he pressed it. _Well_, he thought, _our luck had to run out sometime_. "Do you see a hatch anywhere?" He turned to pan his light across the floor of the outlined square.

**Would you not see it at the same time as I?**

"Not necessarily," Zack panned again with his light shifted over about half-a-metre. "In this light, your optics are much more accurate than my eyes; you don't have to look as closely as I do." For emphasis, Zack tapped the tiny fibre optic camera strapped to the right side of his helmet.

**I understand. Wait—pan back three metres.**

"Okay," Zack did as requested but couldn't see what held his partner's interest. "What do you see?"

**There is an irregular shape at the 12 O'clock edge of your light's beam.**

Raising his eyebrow, Zack moved his head to point the light at the "irregularity". _Just when did you start using the clock system for directions, Anna_? "It's a latch," he crouched down over it, "Good eye, Anna."

**It is a camera**, came the curt reply, **And thank you.**

Reaching for the latch, Zack turned the small handle, and was completely unprepared when the floor opened up beneath him.

With a short, cut-off cry of surprise, Zack threw his arms out, landing with a grunt against the floor, his arms braced against the edges of a man-sized hole in the floor. "Um..." he winced as the pain shot up his arms and blossomed into a nice, fiery sensation pooled in his shoulders, "Ow, that hurt quite a bit."

**Are you all right?** The buzzing of the black device on his arm caused Zack to slip slightly before he tightened up his grip on the sides of the hole.

"Whoa!" Zack paused to calm his racing heart. "Anna—quiet, please; or kill the vibration. You made me slip." He relaxed when his armband remained silent. "Okay," moving slowly and carefully, Zack shifted back so one edge of the square hole was up against his back, and his arms were resting on opposite sides of it, the metal edge digging into points about halfway along his upper arms. "Let's see here," he looked down and felt a mild thrill of relief when he caught sight of a very narrow ladder within reach of his dangling legs. "Oh—good." He swung his legs forward carefully to catch hold of a rung and then shuffled forward even more slowly so he could reach out for the ladder with one hand at a time. "Good Lord, that wasn't fun at all." Shifting his hold on the ladder, Zack took a few moments to shake the tension out of his right arm, and then his left. "Okay Anna, we're good—any change in the scans?"

**There has not been any change.** The vibration in his armband didn't shake his grip at all. **Are you all right?**

"Oh yeah," Zack started to descend the ladder, pausing every few steps to cast his light down into the dark elevator shaft, "I'll be sore tomorrow, but I'm good." He paused again and looked around, "Can you tell how far down this shaft goes?"

**No. All I can see is that the lowest heat signature is at approximately six storeys below the surface. I would hazard a guess that the shaft goes all the way down.**

"Lovely," Zack kept climbing down the ladder. "Any suggestions of what we could be walking into?"

**No. All the theories I have are unlikely to be true.**

"Well, why don't you run them by me anyway?" Zack glanced down again as he continued his descent. "I have a few thoughts of my own, if you'd like to hear them."

**I would like to hear yours**, the program replied.

"I asked you first," Zack looked up at the still-open elevator hatch far above him. "Have you noticed that we haven't passed any other doors?"

**Yes, I saw that**. Zack glanced briefly at his armband when it didn't vibrate to indicate his program's reply. **My first suspicion is that we have found a covert military facility. That seems highly unlikely, however, as the only surface access appears to be this single elevator shaft. Deployment of any significant military assets would be far exceedingly time-consuming and inefficient.**

Zack thought about that for a few moments. It was remarkably close to his own suspicion. "Perhaps a military research installation?"

**That was my second conclusion as well**, the computer replied. **If that is the case, however, then why is the facility unpowered?**

"I don't know – maybe it's abandoned?" Zack finally reached the bottom of the shaft and cast his light around the wide space. "Alright, let's see..." The beam of his light fell on the thick, black metal-plated doors which spanned almost the entire south wall of the elevator shaft. "Here we go. How heavy do you think that door is?"

**A standard freight elevator door requires a force of 4767.66 Newtons to open manually. It is likely that this door is a great deal heavier due to what appears to be armoured steel plating.**

"Perfect," Zack stepped up to the closed, vertical-sliding panels and pressed one hand against the cool metal. "Any ideas, Anna?"

**Staring at the doors will not open them.**

"Thanks Anna," Zack rolled his eyes but reached into a pouch at his left hip for a small unmarked aerosol can. "It's a good thing I brought my acid spray."

**How exactly you came up with the notion to use James' gym clothes to synthesize a component of your acid is beyond my processing power.**

Before he removed the cap from the nozzle of the can, Zack slipped on a pair of thin, specially-coated gloves he'd had to create in direct response to the acid he'd developed. "Well, let's just say there's a large chemical burn on Jim's bedroom floor back home in Ottawa; it was likely caused by his socks lying undisturbed in one place for several...uh—months."

**You do not still have any of Jim's clothes with you, do you?**

"Of course not," Zack took a step back from the elevator doors and held the can up with one hand while the other held a simple paper filter mask over his mouth and nose. "Once I figured out the unique blend of elements to be found in Jim's unwashed clothes, it was a simple enough matter to synthesize it myself." Without explaining anymore, he pressed down on the nozzle's trigger and closed his eyes to slits, barely enough to see what he was doing.

Using the precisely focused spray, Zack traced out a roughly metre-and-a-half oval into the reinforced doors. Then, he stepped back and kept breathing through the filter as he watched the faint wisps of toxic fumes rise up the shaft. "I sure hope there's some kind of working ventilation here."

**Considering the size and depth of the facility, it seems unlikely that a ventilation system would be absent.**

"My thoughts exactly." Zack moved forward to inspect the damage done as the rising fumes slowed to a stop. "Well," he made a thoughtful noise and sprayed once more around the oval, focusing on the already quite-deep grooves his first application had burned away. "A couple more times should do it."

He stepped back as Anna replied, **It appears that you will not need a third application of the acid. It has already eroded 79% of the way through the door.**

"That's good," Zack held the mask tightly to his face and checked the time on his HUD. "We're running a little slower than I'd like."

**It is best to be cautious in a situation like this.**

"You make a valid point," Zack heard the elevator door creak as the weakening upper edge of the oval began to tear apart under its own weight. "But, if the facility is as big as your scans say, we might have to come back next weekend."

**You could probably bring Monica with you if you do.**

"That's just what I was thinking," Zack jumped back a step when the acid ate through the last of the door and long oval fell backward into the elevator shaft with a loud _clang_. "Well, what do you say we do a little exploring before we leave?"

He snapped the lid onto the spray can.

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

"Flygirl!"

Monica pulled her head out of _Phoenix_'s engine compartment and swiped a thick lock of her hair from her eyes. "What is it, Kin?"

The older man wheeled his way over to her and smacked her hip with a newspaper, "You have a visitor." Without waiting, he turned and made his way back across the hangar to the office. "He's pretty worked up about something too."

_Oh good_, Monica felt a smear of grease clinging to her left eyebrow from a few moments earlier, but she made no move to clean it off. _It's about time he came to let me know about his adventure in trespassing_. She raised her voice for her partner to hear, "Go ahead and let him on back." With that said, she turned back to her plane.

It was a moment before she heard a set of excited boot-steps echo across the cement of the hangar floor. "Monica! '_Nic_!"

Raising her eyebrows, Monica slowly turned back to face the wide-eyed Zack, "Well, you must have found something pretty amazing—you haven't called me that since twelfth grade."

Panting, he bent at the waist to catch his breath for a moment. "Sorry, Monica – no time." He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. "You have to come see—it's incredible!" He paused only long enough to straighten up and bounce on his toes, gesturing wildly. "A fully self-contained military research outpost! Technical schematics, machine shops, completely automated and powered-!"

"Whoa, Zack—," Monica grabbed him by his shoulders to stop his pacing and forced him to calm down, "Slow down—start from the top. It's Thursday," she smiled slightly when her friend's eyes focused on her. "If what you found was so amazing, why are you waiting until now to share the news?"

Zack snapped his head to face her with a wide-eyed, startled look. "Oh—gosh, I'm sorry...I was just busy with moving Anna into the bunker and helping her settle in. There's been a couple harder firewalls I had to teach her about, but most of it was pretty basic—stuff from over fifteen years ago."

"You moved Anna in?" Monica swept aside that errant lock of hair again as it fell across her eyes once more. "I guess the place was deserted then?"

"Oh yeah—completely." Zack's eyes glowed with excitement. "It's got everything I could need for my experiments. And hey – I even found a place you could land your plane. What do you say?" He raised one eyebrow at her, "This weekend we could drive down and I'll give you the tour?"

"Well," she peeked inside the engine compartment one more time and closed it up, locking it in place. "_Phoenix_ is getting her maintenance inspection tomorrow to certify your upgrades, but I'm free after about six at night?"

Zack beamed, "That's perfect."

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

It was dark in the hallway.

Hesitating for only a moment, Monica slowly walked down the passage to the end, pausing when she noticed the streaks of darkest red that ran along the walls, trailing down to the floor in thin, boiling lines. Turning in a slow circle, Monica was startled to find that the hall behind her had closed, leaving her standing in a tiny scrap of space where two doors had suddenly appeared on either side of her, each identical the one to the other.

Without giving her any chance to really inspect either door for differences, the two closed doors abruptly flew apart to some indeterminate distance, leaving the redhead standing in an endless darkness between the two bright and shining doors, still surrounded by spiralling, writhing bands of crimson blackness. Monica stared at the endless..._nothing_ around her.

_What is this place_?

"It is your future, Monica Caning."

The voice came from her left, but the pilot didn't turn to look; she knew who she would see now. It had been just over three months and she had yet to have a dream which didn't at some point have that...woman. There had always been a sense of familiarity whenever _she_ was in the dream.

"This is your fate, Monica."

The second voice was the same as the first – the same tone and pitch, and even the same aura of familiarity as the other, but there was a certain...extra feel to this new voice. Something that Monica couldn't quite place.

_So, what does that mean for these dreams?_

"It means your destiny is to stand by my side."

Monica snapped her head around to the source of the first voice, unsurprised to find green and violet-streaked eyes staring back at her with a veiled intent.

Sarah Kerrigan stood just a hair or two shorter than Monica with a wild mop of brown, spiky hair on her head, looking much more like a collection of bony or chitinous protrusions than like human hair. Her skin was smooth as green marble and looked about as hard and cold. All she wore was a worn-out, grey jumpsuit, something reminiscent of fighter-pilot movies. There was a variety of pouches and pockets that looked reasonably filled, but the gun holster hanging on her left hip was conspicuously empty. She stood only a few metres away from Monica with one hand held out to the young woman.

"You and I, we could unite all the fractured worlds of this galaxy under one banner. You have the potential and the will to be so much more than you can imagine..."

"_No! _Do not listen to her, Monica!"

The redhead snapped her head around to see an almost identical Sarah Kerrigan standing on her other side, a fierce emotion shining in her eyes. It was a strange combination of fury and concern that seemed to pull at Monica's mind, almost a plea for the redhead to heed her shouted warning.

"She will lead you to destruction, Monica," she cautioned once more, "You must not give in to her."

The second Kerrigan wore a jumpsuit quite similar to her counterpart, but hers was streaked with red – the same red that had almost completely covered the walls of the hallway from before. This second...woman had the same filled pouches dotted all over her, but not the gun holster. Instead, this Kerrigan had a set of long, curved claws extending from her hands. There was more of that boiling, thick fluid dripping from their tips to the formless ground beneath her feet and Monica felt her stomach lurch when she finally realized what it was.

Blood.

"Do you see the carnage she has wrought?" The first Kerrigan's voice was suddenly speaking right into the shell of Monica's ear, "Do you see the blood on her hands?" Monica felt a pair of arms creep slowly around her shoulders, embracing her as securely as a chrysalis. "Who is truly the destroyer here, Monica?"

Monica closed her eyes lightly, fighting the terribly seductive pull of the first Kerrigan's voice...fighting to think it all through in her own mind – to make sense of this new dream. There had never been _two_ of these terrible villains in her dreams. Both Kerrigans were coming from equally strong positions; the first with an open desire for peace and unity, and the second with a spirit of urgent fear and caution. And equally troubling were the warning bells that were going off for each of them.

Sarah, so named in Monica's mind for the simple fact that she was reaching out to her with the apparent intent to comfort, was behaving so inescapably seductive, causing such confusing and frightening emotions and sensations to come to life in her mind and heart, that Monica couldn't help but fear that it could all be a beautifully painted trap, a prison wrapped up in glorious tapestries meant to draw her in and then entangle her forever in a world of the very darkness and destruction against which the other was trying to warn.

Kerrigan, on the other hand, had offered no words of comfort or peace, but only a warning. The blood that dripped freely from her clawed fingers would have been unsettling in any amount... But the sheer volume that had slipped through her hands was beyond frightening. There was no comfort to be found in Kerrigan's eyes – no safety or peace – but there was guilt. Guilt and pain.

"Yes," Sarah whispered into her ear, her grip tightening slightly. "There is only guilt and pain and suffering to be found if you walk with her." The arms around Monica's shoulders grew warmer. "There will only be death and sorrow if you choose that road."

"And if I walk beside you?" Monica whispered the words with her eyes still lightly closed. She could sense that she would not like this answer, but she wasn't exactly sure where that certainty had come from.

"You have no idea," Sarah purred into her ear, "Absolutely no clue of the potential hidden in your spirit, do you?"

"_No_," Kerrigan cried out, her voice sounding fainter than before, "You must _fight it_!"

"Don't listen to the murderer," Sarah's grip tightened even more around Monica's shoulders, drawing her deeper into the comforting, stifling warmth. "Between the two of us," she whispered, "Nothing could stand in our way; we could reshape all of existence as we see fit – make the universe a safe and beautiful place for generations to come. We could pave a glorious age for our children..."

Monica could no more deny the growing hum of attraction she felt than she could pick up a stone and call it steak. There was just something so...appealing and alluring about Sarah's proposal, almost to the point of arousing a sensuous curiosity and excitement that Monica had never felt before in her life. She knew that it would take so very little to push her over the edge and onto Sarah's side of this line that had appeared under Monica's feet.

But, she had to know... "And my friends? My family – everyone I care about? What happens to them?"

It was a long moment before Sarah answered, her voice still an almost breathless purr into the redhead's ear. "Their sacrifice will be remembered for all time, for it is your destiny to join me, to join _with_ me," the arms around her body and the words flowing through her mind seemed to touch every part of her soul, reaching even to the very deepest darkness of her spirit, a darkness whose existence Monica hadn't ever doubted – but had never dreamed would be so potent. "Just as it was their destiny to protect you until you were ready."

"Ready?" Monica clenched her eyes shut and fought to control her rebellious spirit. What she saw and felt as Sarah plucked at her mind like a harp was at the same time frightening and exciting. "Ready for what?"

Sara raised one hand up to touch Monica's lips with two fingers, "The truth."

If Monica thought keeping a clear mind was challenging before, the fresh wave of images brought on by the simple declaration made it almost impossible.

She could see it all so clearly; thousands, millions of worlds lying at her feet, united in peace and all their inhabitants gathered before her in their immeasurable multitudes. They stood almost in some kind of formation, their numbers stretching all the way into the distance farther than Monica could see, farther than she could fathom. Then, as one, they all bowed down, some in gratitude, some in pride, some even in fear, but all of them bowed low in an unparalleled display of reverence and servitude.

To _Her_.

To Monica.

For there, right at the front of the faceless crowd, her eyes glowing with awe and joy was Sarah Kerrigan herself. She did not bow – there was no need; the devotion in her violet-green eyes was as clear as if the terrifying Queen of Blades was crying it out to the heavens above and the deepest reaches of the Earth.

_I am Yours._

"Yes," Monica opened her eyes and turned around to face Sarah as the word escaped the brunette's lips in a breathless hiss. "Yes, Monica – My Queen…" Those green-and-violet eyes fluttered closed as an intense shudder swept from her head to her toes. "My Empress…" Monica was surprised and frightened at the depth of the open adoration that overflowed from those eyes when they opened. "My _Goddess_." Sarah whimpered this last, trembling at the declaration.

As that…unexpected title slipped from the other woman's lips, Monica felt a shiver of her own rush all the way down her spine to settle in her belly as a growing, swirling pool of mingled terror and pleasure. Monica couldn't help but think about how potent a drug this was…this power she could feel awakening in her soul.

And what would she do to fully realize it?

A quiet, pained whimper managed to pierce the haze of Monica's fogged mind and she turned to see Kerrigan standing not far behind her, half-turned away, with her arms wrapped tightly around her middle, clutching it tightly enough that her shoulders were shaking.

Or were her shoulders shaking for another reason?

With great difficulty, Monica pushed aside the unsettlingly pleasant sensations coiled in her belly and walked over to the other Sarah Kerrigan and laid a hand on her shivering shoulders. "What's wrong?"

When Kerrigan finally turned to face her, Monica felt her heart clench. The eyes were the same mixed violet-green as Sarah's, but there was so much pain and sorrow etched into her spirit that it simply bled out of her eyes in thin trails of tears.

"I am sorry, Monica," Kerrigan offered in a broken voice, her tone and eyes betraying a haunted soul, filled with ages of experience, a thousand lifetimes of death and suffering. "I can offer you nothing to compete with Her." Sad, violet-streaked eyes flicked over to the silently watching Sarah, whose eyes had become emotionless as soon as Monica left her side, her feelings veiled and unreadable.

Monica shuddered at the implication. "Which of you is lying?"

Kerrigan shook her head slowly, staring down at her blood-drenched and dripping hands. "There are no lies, my dearest friend. No lies," she looked up at Monica with apologetic eyes, "Save one."

Despite Kerrigan's doom-saying and her words of warning, Monica felt worlds better talking to her than with her seductive twin. "What lie?" Even now, with the insatiable beast in her belly uncoiled and dissolving into the ether, Monica was more than a little shaken by how easily Sarah had been able to tempt her.

"Neither of us is your destiny, Monica." Kerrigan looked up from where she had sunk to her knees, her blood-soaked hands clenched together in her lap as if in prayer. "It would be so infinitely wrong for you to believe your future hinged on so narrow a path."

"What?" Monica knelt down beside the downcast woman before she could stop herself and reached for her hands, ignoring the warmly slick claws as the blood transferred to her own hands. "What do you mean?"

Kerrigan sighed and shook her head before twisting to take in the sight of Sarah standing close by – the temptress' expression torn between anguish and fury. "These are but two of a thousand courses your life could take, Monica – two of a million, two of an infinite number of destinies that could be yours." Kerrigan raised her chin defiantly when Sarah let out a threatening growl, daring her mirror image to contradict her. "Your destiny truly is your own Monica, in far more ways than any other person could dream – even Zack." Kerrigan stood straight and turned back to Monica. Her eyes were wide and glimmering with urgency, "Forgive me for this Monica, but there is only one thing that you cannot do – only one destiny is out of your reach."

Monica felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise up at the stunning news. "And what is that?" To have so many possibilities waiting for her, so many avenues open to her, was more than a little overwhelming. How was she to choose?

"Nothing," Kerrigan shook her head slowly. "It is not in your power to do nothing." Her eyes were truly sorrowful and repentant as she looked up into Monica's wide blue eyes, as if she could be something of the future in the redhead's azure orbs…and it wasn't good. "There will be choices and changes ahead of you, my friend – difficult, dangerous, and painful. All your life you have sought to forge your path without hurting anyone around you…without upsetting the balance. But that road is quickly closing for you…by your very will and by your choices, worlds will rise or fall. You cannot avoid it."

Stepping away with a thin trickle of fear at the thought, Monica presented the same question to the more forthcoming of the twins. "And my friends and family? What will happen to them if I walk your path?"

"Nothing is certain, Monica." Kerrigan looked away guiltily. "You have the power within you to protect everything you love, everything you hold dear to your heart…but nothing is ever certain." She turned back to study Monica carefully, searchingly. "You have the will and the power in your spirit to be the greatest Guardian of the Light, or you can be the most terrible Agent of Darkness. It is all in your hands."

Monica stared at Kerrigan, only one question in her mind. _How do I fight the darkness I can feel even now sleeping in my soul?_

"Never give up without a fight," Kerrigan's eyes burned with a sudden and unexpected fury. "Do not hide from it – it is as much a part of your spirit as the goodness that lives within you. Without either part, you will not be complete, for that is the legacy of your Inheritance." She paused for only a moment before pulling back a little, "Take the darkness, Monica – know it, understand it, use it, and embrace it…but do not give in to it."

Monica stepped back, shaken by the revelation. Good and Evil both within her? And this…dream-form video game character was telling her to accept both equally? _Ridiculous_.

Abruptly, Monica realized that Sarah had moved to stand beside her twin, an expression of eager anticipation lighting her face with a dark glow. "It's almost time."

With a slow nod of resignation, Kerrigan reached over to take one of Sarah's hands with her own. "I'm sorry, my friend," she stared straight into Monica's eyes as she whispered the words.

With a growing sense of dread, Monica found she was unable to move her feet or tear her gaze away from the joined hands of the twins. "For what?" She whispered the words quietly, her fear rising as the air around her seemed to grow ice cold.

Whether either of the two Kerrigans intended to answer, Monica never found out.

Before she could react – before she could even blink – the two mirror images had merged together and were rushing straight at her.

There was a wet _squelch_, and then Monica felt as though her insides were on fire. Sarah Kerrigan's face filled her vision, her eyes black, empty, soulless. Stunned in her shock, Monica looked down and gasped wordlessly when she saw the long, black claws buried fully in her abdomen, just below her belly button, her own blood now adding to the red stain that covered the Zerg Empress' left hand.

Finally, the sharpest lance of pain penetrated through the clearing mist of shock, and Monica threw her head back to scream-.

Only to have her attacker's ice-cold, demanding lips cover her own, swallowing the agonized, ragged shriek that issued forth from the redhead's throat. The Queen of Blades ruthlessly twisted her claws and dug in deeper, drawing out another ear-splitting cry of pain that was promptly silenced as the bloody-clawed woman...creature savoured every decibel and note of her victim's outcry like the finest wine. What scraps were left for Monica after the Empress had gorged herself emerged as nothing more than a choked-off whimper.

Already weak, Monica reached up to try and push Kerrigan away; Sarah...Kerrigan – whoever she was –, but she felt her left hand caught suddenly in a grip tighter than a vise...and then a fireball ignited in her wrist, causing her screams to begin anew. The futility of her cries was made apparent once more as the Zerg hybrid greedily devoured every second of it before Monica's legs at last failed her and she collapsed in the...creature's arms – one set of claws buried to the root in her abdomen, and another embedded through her wrist.

Then, just as she thought she was about to pass out from the sheer agony, Monica felt the fires in her insides begin to cool inexplicably. And there was a sudden tingling, _crawling_ sensation as she felt the blood that continued to flow off of Kerrigan's hands mix with her own. She felt the _Beast_ in her belly rise once more when the scent of the spilled blood invaded her senses. The Monster within her unfurled itself to its full potency and let loose a triumphant roar that erupted from Monica's lips in an abrupt change from her laboured, pained murmurs. Squirming and writhing, the _Beast_ settled down in the depths of Monica's soul, opened its maw wide, and began to feed with a thrill of delight that sent Monica's entire body into the same shivering, dazed mess that she had been only moments earlier.

Monica's groans of mingled pain, fear, and madness were eagerly, _exhilaratingly_ swallowed by Kerrigan, who answered with her own pleased, excited whimpers as the redhead's blood ran like ice in her veins, carrying with it a hundred thousand demons from the inhuman Empress' own lifeblood.

With a horrific mixture of terror and anticipation, Monica felt the change come over her, transforming her with every heartbeat that pushed her corrupted, cursed blood once again through her shuddering body. She felt her very soul undergoing a terrible and wondrous metamorphosis as her body mutated with every breath she could drag desperately through flared nostrils. She felt as her very organs broke down and remade themselves within the space of a heartbeat, her breath hitching as her lungs changed and twisted in a single instant.

What had started minutes earlier as a scream of pain, betrayal, and anguish immediately turned around and became a shriek of triumphant, delighted exultation as Monica's transformation came to completion and she shed away all that remained of Monica Caning to become something more...something powerful and monstrous.

'_Yes_,' came the whisper into her mind. '_Light of the Creators_,' Kerrigan released her and stepped back to gaze upon her in unveiled wonder and adoration. '_Crown jewel of the Light – be reborn_.'

Monica closed her eyes and let free a roar of victorious rage as muscle and bone erupted from her back.

'_Arise...and be reborn, Triumph of the Zerg!_'

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Monica shuddered awake at the last words that caressed her mind.

"Holy-!"

After knocking a knee on the dashboard in front of her, Monica settled down quickly and let out a quiet sigh of relief. She rested her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes as she felt her pulse only just beginning to slow.

"That was a bad one, I take it."

Startled, Monica's eyes snapped open and she shot a look to the source of the voice to see calm, intelligent blue eyes meeting her own without malice or deception.

Zack.

Relieved yet again, Monica took a moment to take stock of her surroundings before replying.

They were both buckled up in the cab of Zack's dark blue pickup truck, Zack behind the wheel and Monica riding beside him in the passenger seat. It only took a moment to remember they were on their way out to the bunker Zack had been so excited about the day earlier. Checking the clock on the dash, Monica realized they'd left town more than two hours earlier, the young redheaded pilot drawn in and caught up in her younger friend's eager excitement.

The re-certification of her old plane had gone off without a hitch – just a quick word from the inspector that he'd love to meet the genius who had overhauled _Phoenix_'s engine.

"_I know how proud you are of your baby, Flygirl," Casey had said as he locked down the engine panels, "But she looks worlds better than some of the top planes on the market today." He had flipped through the pages of notes he'd made during his inspection. "And if you're right about the upgrades, your little sparrow could probably top any bird out there in every way."_

Glowing with pride for her tiny little Beechcraft, Monica had told her friend a little about the test flight she and Zack had taken just a little earlier that week. The Aviation inspector hadn't believed her of course, but she didn't care. She still had the best plane in the world, hands down.

All thanks to an unknown, eighteen-year-old super-genius.

"Sorry for startling you, Zack." Monica reached up to rub her eyes tiredly, still uneasily weary despite her nape. The dream hadn't really allowed for that much rest.

The blond man smiled and shook his head slowly. "Hey, don't worry about it. You've only been dreaming for about twenty minutes, and all you did was mumble a little bit." He shrugged casually, "The way you woke up was a little...surprising, but it wasn't unexpected."

"Thanks," the redhead smiled weakly to her friend, realizing how foolish it was for her to put so much weight on how her dreams affected her life. The images or prophecies of her dream may or may not come to pass, but the moment of her critical decision was still light-years off. There was still time – time to learn, to see and understand what she had been shown...

_There was always time._

"Still," Zack slowed his truck as they approached a gas station that stood just off the highway, "That must have been a heck of a dream."

Monica nodded slowly and turned to look out the passenger-side window. "Yeah...it was," she let out another relieved sigh as she felt the sharpest, most horrific images slipping from her mind like a receding fog, evaporating and leaving behind only the memory of their existence and releasing the tension that had grown in her shoulders as she'd rerun the events through her mind. "It was one of the...darker prophetic dreams."

"Oh, that's interesting," Zack pulled to a stop behind the gas station and engaged the parking brake. "I had one not too long ago," he chuckled under his breath, "Probably not as intense as yours, I expect... Just something about giving a speech to the twelve disciples."

Monica laughed out loud at that, "The twelve disciples? About what?"

Zack tilted his head to one side uncertainly. "I can't quite remember... Oversleeping, I think. And...an exploding mountain?"

Monica raised an eyebrow at that one. _That's a little new._

Zack gave a short, self-depreciating laugh. "Yeah, I know – it's one of my weirder ones. But how about yours? You want to talk about it?"

Monica thought about it carefully, "There's not too much I can remember, really." And it was true. Even now, the most vivid details were slipping from her grasp, leaving her with only scattered images and a lingering sense of unease whenever she thought about it.

_I saw a divergence of paths...one to darkness and the other to light...the one equally as appealing as the other. Both equally treacherous, equally dangerous...and both leading to the same place...a destiny that terrified the young pilot to her core at the same time as it excited and invigorated her senses._

"That's understandable," Zack continued on the subject, oblivious to how uncomfortable Monica was growing. "I can honestly say there are a few I'd love to forget."

"Like what?" Okay, so she wasn't really all that uncomfortable with the subject so much as...cautious.

"There's this one I've had a couple of times in the past few months." He twisted in his seat to face her, his eyes closed as he sank back instantly into the setting of his dream. "I'm standing on the bridge of a ship, in a low orbit over some planet. You're there, Jim, Belinda, a couple other people – but I don't recognize them. We're surrounded on all sides but above and below by hundreds of ships – cruisers, fighters, frigates. There's a hologram in front of me," Zack's eyebrows drew together, "Someone I know...but I can't make out his face." The young man shook off his uncertainty, "Anyway – the hologram goes away, and every ship just opens up with every weapon type I have ever dreamed of – and some that I've never even conceived. Missiles, lasers, rail guns, particle weapons, full-blown radiation blasts..." Zack shuddered slightly as he came back to the present. "I stand there for a single instant – knowing that no matter what I do, no matter how fast or brilliant I am, I am never going to come up with an answer in time..." Zack sighed under his breath, "And then I wake up."

_Whoa_... Monica whistled lowly, unsuccessfully trying to imagine a scene like that. "I'm sorry, Zack." She smiled humourlessly, "But I think blood trumps blasters."

"Blood?" Zack tilted his head curiously, the wheels of his mind spinning at an already blinding pace, "Whose?"

Monica tried to hold her breath without looking like it, "Mine," she admitted.

Zack winced in sympathy, "Say no more," He reached behind his seat for his satchel, pulling out a long, hollow cylinder, "But," He paused and turned to face her. "You know how to find me if you ever need to talk, right?"

"Yeah," Monica's smile became much more genuine, "Thanks, Zack."

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"So," Zack stepped carefully over a violently out-thrust tree root. "Are you ready for this?"

Monica grinned, her recent nightmare a small, distant warning on the horizon. "I've been ready since we flew over this place two weeks ago." She shrugged and easily stepped onto the root Zack had avoided, perching for a moment before stepping back down almost silently in the darkness. "Life just...got in the way."

Zack chuckled and checked the readout on his HUD. "Life didn't happen, 'Nic – business did. Now, this-," he pulled a branch aside and motioned for his friend to pass through before him, "_This_ is life."

"What," Monica smirked playfully as she passed, "Fumbling in the dark without so much as a flashlight?"

Zack stepped after her nimbly, "Well, you know...we are a pair of young people exploring our relationship together..."

Monica shook her head, laughing quietly as they came to the top of a hill that overlooked the darkened bunker Zack had found. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah, well – you should have thought of that before you agreed to go out with me." Zack stepped around her and started down the hill.

"Oh, I did," Monica followed after the young genius.

As they drew closer, Monica began to take note of the squat, square concrete structure in a way that just couldn't be done from the sky. "I'm still a little confused," She began in a sotto voice, "Who the heck would build something from a video game out here in the middle of nowhere?"

Zack gave a knowing chuckle as they climbed the three steps up to the bunker's hatch. "Yeah, the resemblance is a little too uncanny to be mere coincidence, but what's really going to bug you is who would build something like this in the late 70s?" He opened the hatch and stepped through.

Monica remained behind, stunned into motionlessness by the new information. "You're joking, right?"

"I'm afraid not," Zack turned to face her with a thin smile. "It's a heck of a coincidence, eh?"

The redhead sighed and stepped through the hatch, shaking her head and swinging the armoured door closed behind her. "I'm going to assume there's a good explanation for this." She had to squint to see in the dim light provided by the moonlight through the gun slits all around the single-room building.

"So am I," Zack stepped into the cage with the elevator platform and motioned Monica over." The computer banks have some pretty complete logs, and Anna's had all week to read through them. "I have my own suspicions, but I'd like to see what she's come up with on her own."

Monica laughed and walked around the walls of the cage to join Zack inside. "Since when did bunkers have elevators?"

Zack activated the lift and the two began to descend on the platform. "I guess since this bunker's not quite in the middle of nowhere, but attached to an underground facility." He started as one of the newly-activated elevator shaft lights popped and burned out just above his head. "I swear, some of the things about this place just don't seem very 'twenty years ago' to me." The elevator came to a stop and Zack stepped through the melted-out hole in the doors into the dimly illuminated hallway. "Watch your step," he looked around the hallway for a moment as he waited for Monica to follow him with her tiny gym-bag in hand, "You must be the lightest packer I've ever seen."

"Please," she rolled her eyes, "I spent a year and a half driving across Canada, and six months of that with a dozen hick town men – learning to pack light was the least of the knowledge I got." She glanced back at the hole quickly before refocusing on Zack, "Acid?"

Zack nodded and motioned with his head for Monica to follow him. "Courtesy of Jim's tenth grade gym clothes," He paused to laugh at Monica's shudder of disgust. "The control centre's this way."

They walked together down the hall, passing several closed doors on both sides before Zack stopped at one and turned the knob of the slate-grey door to push it inward. "Welcome to central control," he bowed slightly and waved his guest before him.

Giggling at the genius' over-dramatic antics, Monica stepped into a room out of a modern-day laboratory. "What the..." She looked around helplessly, unsure what she should look at first. "This can't be thirty years old."

"It's something, isn't it?" Zack looked around slowly, his eyes bright with excitement. "Either this place has been visited and updated recently, or something is very wrong with this picture."

"You are correct on both counts."

Zack froze on the spot as the voice came neither from Monica nor him, but from behind them.

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A/N: And we've taken another step closer to the end of this story. Only 1 chapter left. Thank you for reading, and please review.


	6. A Step into Destiny

**Title: The Zachary Chronicles – Origins**

**Chapter: 03 – A Step into Destiny**

**Rating:** T

**Edit(Nov 13, 2011): **Revised because ffnet doesn't support the formatting I used before for scene breaks.

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A/N: At last, an update. And so the beginning of this series of stories draws to a close. Thank you to all of you who have stuck through and been so patient with me. I can assure you that the next few bits are written and just need some editing, but there's no telling when I'll be able to get my rear into gear on that one.

Please, if you have any questions, comments, or criticism, don't hesitate to let me know. It'll only take a few minutes. Thanks again.

And a great big thank you to Solanaa, my beta reader. Thank you for putting up with me.

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**Summary: This chapter picks up immediately after the last one.**

**Origins:**

**blah** – Anna's speech.

blah – Regular speech/Narrative.

_blah –_ Thoughts.

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_**Chapter 6**_

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_Monday, December 29, 2008_.

The voice was low, carrying a gravelly quality as its owner seemed to almost growl the words out. "Why have you come here?"

Zack turned slowly to face the newcomer and found that he was face-to-face with something he definitely hadn't been expecting. "Whoa," his eyes widened.

It stood no higher than a metre-and-a-half from head to toe, but was easily at least two metres long from its wide, tapered snout to its long, stiff tail. Large, yellow, reptilian eyes studied the two friends through slitted pupils. After a moment, thin, leathery cream-coloured lips curled upward to reveal a maw filled with gleaming, serrated teeth. Those wide, cold eyes blinked slowly—almost lazily—as the beast stalked dangerously towards the duo, the long, wickedly curved claws on its feet clicking conspicuously on the concrete floor while the shorter, but no less lethal, claws of its forward limbs reached up to scratch at the underside of its pale lime jaw.

A Velociraptor.

"Z-Zack?" Monica had turned too, and now stared transfixed at the glimmering claws as they reflected the light from the fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling. "There's a dinosaur standing in the room with us."

Zack smiled despite the clear and murderous intent in those shining amber eyes. "I can see it too. I'm glad I'm not hallucinating."

"I am Janine, Alpha Claw of the Raptor clans," the creature's lips seemed to move quite easily around the words, but the very shape of its throat caused them to emerge in a low growl. "Why have you come?"

"Oh," Zack straightened and tried to ignore the look of those claws as he tried to explain and avoid what would likely be a very painful death. "We found this place a few weeks ago and we just came here to take a look around and see what there is to see here."

"We have already staked our claim on this place—your computer has no right to be in the factory building...whatever it is constructing."

"What?" Zack looked behind him at where Anna's computer case sat happily humming away. "What is she building in there?"

"Factory?" Monica's cautious, curious voice reached Zack through his excited agitation over Anna's building project and he quickly turned to explain it to her.

But the olive-green reptile swivelled its head to face her, cold eyes still...cold. "This facility was built several decades ago by a group of humans. The original structure included a subterranean vehicle bay, the landing strip in the Cliff-side, the command centre, a barracks, and the war factory where your artificial creation is currently designing and building some sort of vehicle.

"What," Monica considered the reptile warily, "Who'd build a secret base out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"Anti-separatists." Zack replied quickly, shrugging at Monica's incredulous look, "It was thirty years ago, Monica, during the time leading up to campaigning before Quebec's referendum in 1980. I guess there was some Canadian terrorist militia who thought it might come to war between Quebec and Canada...and they wanted to be ready?"

Monica stared at Zack, "Redneck Canadians?"

"Essentially," Zack shrugged.

"Forgive me for interrupting," the short saurian looked from Zack to Monica, its expression still unreadable. "But neither of you appears very frightened."

Monica snorted, "Beyond the initial surprise of meeting a living dinosaur? I guess not." She and Zack shared a glance. "Considering the dreams we've been having for many years...even a talking dinosaur doesn't quite measure up."

Zack nodded. "And you're clearly intelligent enough to be reasoned with; otherwise would we really be having this conversation?"

The tough, mixed green-faced head tilted curiously, and the very outer edges of its lips might have turned up by the width of a hair. "Probably not," then, before either of them could blink, the raptor had exploded forward and tackled Zack to the floor, one foot planted on the ground and the other resting heavily on his chest. Both inner claws of the four-toed foot tapped him on the chest meaningfully, "But make no mistake, _human_," the raptor bent its head low to stare straight into his eyes with its muzzle only centimetres from the boy's face. "I and my kind are predators, as we have been since before your species ever drew breath."

Even staring into the eyes of an extinct predator—a very much alive specimen at that—Zack couldn't help his calm reply, "I'll keep that in mind...Janine, was it?" Zack was surprised when he saw the slightest change in his aggressor's eyes from cold and hard to full-out confusion. "What's wrong?"

The confusion gave way quickly to disbelieving astonishment and the lowly rumbling creature slowly stepped off Zack's chest and backed away as those glimmering amber eyes hardened once again, the veil falling across its emotions once more. "Forgive me," it bowed its head slightly before turning to Monica, "I did not realize..."

"Realize what?" Zack got up off the floor and quickly checked himself over. "What happened?"

The raptor shook its head slowly before speaking once again. "Many generations ago, before the Cataclysm ended the reign of our kind on this planet...our ancestors were visited by a race that is not of this world."

"Aliens and Dinosaurs?" Zack thought about it briefly, before relaxing and letting the surprising information file itself away. "Uh...Okay," _Might as well accept it, he shrugged again._

"Protectors, they called us," Janine began to pace slowly around the room and levelled an occasional cold-eyed glance at Zack and Monica. "Guardians of all who would follow...They touched us, gifted us with incredible powers, and then locked them away from us once again. They said our abilities would be returned to us at the appointed time, but our reawakening would herald the rebirth of the _Lox-Tenin_—the One."

_The One_? Zack looked over and sighed at the open curiosity in Monica's eyes, "The One what?"

Janine paused and turned icy, golden eyes on the young genius. "The First one, the Perfect One... The One who will be the catalyst of our Rebirth." After a moment, the raptor went on slowly. "The ones who created us hoped to create the perfect being—physically and psychically pure in every way."

Despite himself, Zack found his mind whirring up to capture all the hidden clues and nuances the reptile probably didn't know it was dropping. "This is beginning to sound very familiar."

"Yeah really," Monica nodded quietly as she studied the thoughtfully pacing dinosaur. "It sounds like every science fiction novel I've ever read."

Ignoring the comments, Janine growled quietly, "We are more than allies to _Lox-Tenin__—_we are kin." The raptor sighed wearily, "But it has been so very many years of waiting and hoping. My brethren are beginning to question the way that our ancestors have interpreted the prophecy of _Lox-Tenin_'s ascension."

Monica cocked her head questioningly. "Just how old are you, Janine?" She looked around and hopped up onto one of the computer consoles. "Because you're beginning to sound like you were there."

The olive green predator gave a sharp, harsh bark—laughter presumably. "I am old, young one, but not _that _old. Our kind are blessed with the memories of all who have preceded us, but my own memories only reach back to your Egyptian Pharaohs."

"No kidding, _only_?" Zack's tone was dry.

"I was the youngest to claim Alpha Claw in all of our clan's written history." Janine drew herself up proudly, "I was but an adolescent of 800 years when my father passed the responsibility onto me."

Zack chuckled quietly, "Behold the boy who would be King."

Janine's lips twisted into some frightful approximation of a smile, "More accurately the girl who would be Queen."

"Really," Monica raised her eyebrows at that, "And just how does one tell the difference?"

The Raptor's growl rose quickly from the lowest, teeth-rattling pitch to a high, ringing trill before it—she answered. "That...is none of your business."

Zack tilted his head to the side, "So, is that what you're doing here, trying to find a way for your...people to leave?"

"Exactly," the saurian plodded over to the computer sitting on the console and sniffed at it gingerly. "You humans have quite an unusual way of existing in a given environment. Instead of adapting to suit the world around you, you manipulate the environment to serve you. Instead of coexisting with Nature, you supplant it. Eventually," Janine's eyes took on a faraway look. "Eventually, all the wilderness we have left will be gone, and once that time comes, the _Lox-Harugar_will have to make a choice."

Zack's brow furrowed in thought. _That word_... "_Lox-Harugar_?" _Why does it sound so familiar_?

"Guardians of Light," the raptor pivoted slowly to face the two humans. "We ceased to be the raptors you know the instant the Creators laid their hands upon our ancestors." Zack almost missed the way Monica's shoulders stiffened at Janine's last words. Almost, "Of course," was the prehistoric creature getting easier to read? She seemed mildly amused still...almost wry, even. "We still call ourselves by the name humans have given us. It is easier." Her head tilted and rolled back a few degrees in what Zack guessed was the cold-blooded animal's version of a shrug. "It is simpler and speaks more to our little-changed appearance from our ancestors."

"I don't know," Monica gave the muscular, slim reptile a quick, almost playful once-over. "You're pretty different from what I know of Velociraptors."

"Such as?" That rough-skinned, pale lime-and-olive head swivelled easily on the reptile's neck.

"Well," Zack cut in quickly, gesturing down at the floor with one hand, "No raptor skeleton I've seen ever had a second scythe-claw on its feet—let alone four toes on each foot."

"And, you've got opposable thumbs." Monica nodded her chin at Janine, "You're also bigger than most of your kind."

The ancient Raptor glanced down casually at the body parts in question. "I suppose we have changed a little over the millions of years that separate us from our origins, but if you truly knew our species, you would know that our genetic evolution means very little to our advancement as a species."

"What do you mean?" Zack felt his interest was definitely aroused now. "How else does your race evolve?"

The raptor turned to study Zack with a critical eye. "Physical evolution is worth nothing if one's kin already has the ability to control their form."

Zack's eyes widened slowly, "Are you serious?"

In lieu of reply, Janine's large, cold yellow eyes slid closed and an astounding thing happened.

Zack watched in mounting awe as the green predator's snout quickly began to shrink and melt back into her face...

...And then he was watching a human woman simply straighten out the long grey coat that hung from her shoulders.

"Whoa," Monica gave voice to Zack's silent amazement. "How did..."

Janine huffed quietly and crossed her arms over her chest. "Our creators did not lock away all of our abilities—simply the most powerful." The Raptor's voice did not sound all that different through human vocal chords; Higher, perhaps less like gravel being poured down a chute, but not very different at all.

"What," Monica stared at the long golden-brown haired woman, "You used to have something more powerful than this?"

"Not me, human...the ones who came before." The woman removed her coat and it vanished in a dull burst of light as soon as she laid it on a nearby computer console. Then, with a slightly sad frown, she turned her head up to stare through the ceiling wistfully. "The Great Guardians of our ancestry, the ones who survived the Cataclysm..." She seemed to get lost in a past that was so vivid in her memory it was difficult to believe it wasn't her own, "They survived by _shifting_, by becoming tiny, insignificant and hungerless particles of dust and shadow."

"How is that even possible?" Monica balked at the idea.

Janine lowered her chocolate brown-eyed gaze to the two humans and snorted quietly, "At one time, our ability to shift was limited only by the imagination. The Creators bestowed that gift upon our kind until the disaster was past. After that, our abilities were weakened—locked away—until the rise of their chosen one..._Lox-Tenin_." She moved to sit down easily in a nearby chair. "That is another reason we do not refer to ourselves very often by our true name—we are not truly the _Lox-Harugar_. We will never be the Guardians until the line of our destiny intertwines with one other's..."

Zack reached up to rub his chin thoughtfully. "Do you happen to remember how your people's abilities were locked away?"

The tall woman shook her head. "It is one of a very few events that have escaped our memories."

_All the same_, Zack found himself thinking, _this genetic memory of yours is quite fascinating_. "I'm guessing the Creators are responsible for the lapse."

"They were." Janine stood up and motioned to the door leading out to the hall. "Would you like something to drink? We usually keep the kitchen well-stocked for when the research team is working."

"When exactly _do_ you work?" Monica and Zack followed the human out of the room and down the hall. "And what are you working on?"

"As I've already said," unconcerned, the disguised reptile ran both her hands through her own long, flowing, curling brown hair. "There are growing numbers among us who are beginning to question the Prophecy of Ascension." Zack looked over quickly as he thought he'd heard the woman ahead of them sigh quietly. "The prophecy speaks of a bright-eyed stranger who will arise from the humans and deliver us from our coming doom."

"Doom?" Monica turned to Zack with a confused look when Janine's fingers slid through her chestnut-golden strands of hair again. "Does that have something to do with why you've taken a human name?"

"We've _all_ taken human names," Janine replied brusquely, "It is _your_ world after all, now that we are outnumbered so radically." She turned to enter a doorway and continue all the way through the cafeteria-style dining area to pass into a medium-sized industrial kitchen. "We may be superior predators in every way, but a Hunt would not end in our favour. There are just too many of you now, with so many ways to communicate across your planet before we could manage any effective strike." She shook her head quickly as she rummaged through a couple of the cupboards for a moment. "And as Alpha Claw, it is my responsibility to make the Tribes see that."

Monica frowned thoughtfully at that. "You've...had to kill your own kind, haven't you?"

The other woman paused, her head still hidden inside one of the lower cupboards, and Zack watched her shoulders droop significantly. "Twice," Janine admitted at last, standing slowly to face them, "My leadership was challenged by two whom I had once considered comrades. They disliked the idea of hiding and waiting to be discovered and wished to take a more aggressive approach in dealing with humans."

"How long ago was that?"

"The first time was shortly after Columbus sailed across the sea from Europe." Janine reached back into the cupboard and stood up with a large kettle in hand, which she set on the counter and began filling with water before moving it to the stove. "And more recently was my own nephew...the day after your kind destroyed Nagasaki, Japan." Janine leaned heavily on the counter, her pale, strong fingers gripping the steel edge. "You must understand," she replied to Monica and Zack's stunned faces, "He was still young and wild...and his mate had been in Nagasaki."

Monica winced sympathetically, "I'm sorry."

Janine waved off the reply, "It was long before your time—and a treacherous hazard that many of us must take to support the others."

"What do you mean?" Belatedly, Zack realized that one of the fiercest predators to ever walk the planet—possibly the fiercest to still live—had apparently decided to be very forthcoming with information, and he was going to take advantage of that while he could. "And how does that relate to this 'Doom' that you're so worried about?"

"The coming doom is nothing less than our discovery by your kind, which will quite shortly precede the demise of ours." Janine's hands relaxed on the counter edge. "We are virtually unanimous in that interpretation. But it is from there that our views all diverge." She sighed wearily, "Our discovery will happen in my lifetime, I have no doubt about that. I have heard the concerns of the tribes, and we have begun to seek a way to leave this world before it is too late; in order for us to do that, however, we need the resources to conduct research, testing, and manufacturing."

"Okay," Zack considered what the ancient reptile was silently proposing, "I'd be willing to help you in your work as much as I can, but I have two problems. First, you want to launch a spacecraft from the middle of Canadian wilderness, loaded up with how many of your people?"

Janine had to think for a moment, "Fewer than three thousand if we were able to leave tomorrow, but five thousand more if we intend to recall everyone who is out in your world."

"Right," the blond man ignored Monica's choked-off grunt of shock. "So, about ten thousand raptors. No matter how you work it, one massive ship or thousands of smaller craft, people are going to notice. That doesn't exactly support your stance of anonymity and invisibility, even if no one would see who exactly is flying the ships."

Janine nodded slowly as she turned to study Zack with her soft brown eyes. "That has already occurred to us, and we are researching other methods of departure more fully, but we are still considering space travel as a last resort." She leaned back against the counter-top, crossing her arms casually, expectantly. "And your other question?"

Zack coughed quietly, "If you all leave, who will stay behind to meet this...Chosen One for this prophesy?"

The tall woman smiled thinly. "Originally, I and a handful of families from each tribe were to remain behind. My eldest, Banquo, would succeed me...though I'd prefer if my daughter would take my place." She shook her head slowly, "But that is a subject for another time perhaps." Her smile growing slightly, Janine ran one hand through her dark hair once more. "If _Lox-Tenin_ truly is the Creators' Perfect One, it will be trivial for him to find the _Lox-Harugar_ no matter what our disguises." She laughed suddenly, a light and pleasant sound in this form—made unsettling only by its suddenness and the knowledge of how dangerous a creature the woman truly was. "The irony of it all is that if you should help us to achieve our Exodus, there are a great many of my kind who would hail _you_ as the One for whom we have been waiting."

"What?" Zack wrinkled his nose. "You're kidding—that's just-."

"Ludicrous, yes—," Janine agreed. "You are merely a human. An intelligent, gifted human, but human nonetheless." She calmed slightly, "But...there are a great many who interpret the Prophesy in a different way. You see, it does not specifically state that _Lox-Tenin_ will have realized its nature when it delivers us from our Doom, so there are some who believe it may appear to be an ordinary human who brings our salvation. There are some who believe that it is through our deliverance that _Lox-Tenin_ will discover himself." Janine ran both hands through her long hair again just as the kettle behind her whistled shrilly. "There are also some who believe that while _He_ may save us from our extinction, at the same time, we will be leading her to the place of her own Ascension." Janine turned and took hold of the kettle, pouring out the water into a large white teapot. "And there are even some who believe that the Prophecy speaks of a Doom on a different planet from this one entirely, and that the _Lox-Harugar_ must reach it before that time comes to pass."

"Um," Monica smiled as she realized exactly what their hostess was preparing for them to drink, "Is this..._Lox-Tenin_ supposed to be a man or a woman?"

The older woman snorted, "The Prophecy doesn't say. Then again," she tilted her head curiously at the two humans, "If it is to be a perfect being, would it not be equally both and neither simultaneously?"

Zack nodded, "And what do you say?" He turned all this new information every which way in his head, studying the growing picture the Raptor's words were painting. "Who do you think it will be?"

If there was a drawback to Janine's human form, it was that her emotions were far harder to conceal. "What I believe is not important." She shifted almost imperceptibly for a moment before turning abruptly and pouring out three generous portions of tea. "What is important is that _Lox-Tenin_ find his or her own way to us. It would be our greatest failure to follow a great Pretender." She shook her head regretfully, "I've seen you humans commit such atrocities of your own over such a trivial thing as faith...it would be no different for us."

"Religion," Zack straightened suddenly, "Are you saying that _Lox-Tenin_ is a God?"

Janine laughed again and handed the mugs of tea out. "No, not exactly," she took a sip of her own drink and closed her eyes gently, pleased by its taste and aroma. "But then again, what is a God but a being whose powers and abilities are simply beyond your comprehension?" She gestured to Zack with her mug, "You humans are able to point a hollowed metal pole at a point hundreds of metres away, move your finger, and topple your enemy. Your military powers could obliterate millions with the press of a button. Would that not be God-like to your ancestors?"

Zack thought about it, "Okay, I guess you have a point..."

Monica stared thoughtfully into her tea before speaking. "There's still something that bugs me—if you and your tribes have been around all this time, why does the fossil record of your species end more than 50 million years ago?"

It was a moment before the raptor...chieftain answered. "Just because there is no record of our dead does not mean we haven't continued to live." She motioned for the human pair to precede her out and into the cafeteria's seating area. "It is another trait of our nature as the _Lox-Harugar__—e_ven if our full power remains asleep." She sat down easily and continued in a serious, even tone. "The tale is that whenever one of our own dies, they are taken by the Creators to the World of Light, birthplace and eternal home of _Lox-Tenin__—t_here to protect our birthright for all time. I don't know for certain, but I have seen many of my fellows' deaths—especially the ones that I caused." For a moment, the woman was silent and her dark brown eyes took on a faraway look. "There is a burst of light from deep in their eyes, washing over the whole body for an instant, and then the glow fades and our comrade is gone – a mother, a daughter, a sibling, a friend, a soul-mate...simply gone. All that remains is a pile of ash that barely fills this cup," she raised the mug in her hand for emphasis.

"Well," Zack couldn't help but be impressed. "I guess that answers that," he took a small sip of the surprisingly flavourful tea and found himself speaking before he could stop himself. "Why are you telling us this? I mean, it's obvious you value your secrecy quite a bit."

Janine grinned like the dark predator she was underneath. "Do not concern yourself with that. It should be enough for you to know that I sense the loyalty in you. I will ask you to keep our secret, and I know that you will do it." Her tone grew darker, quieter, _foreboding_. "However, do not think me stupid or my kind naive. You will be watched, as you have been for the past three months." She turned to Monica, "And you for the past two years..."

"Excuse me?" Zack raised an eyebrow at the woman. "You've been watching us?"

Janine shrugged and took another slow sip of her tea before replying. "From the moment you settled in your town." She placed her almost empty mug down on the table. "We have several infiltrators living in Goose Bay. It is the nearest of your settlements and affords us a pipeline for news about your world."

Monica turned to Zack and narrowed her eyes. "Why can't life ever be simple with you?" She faced the blonde again, "And why exactly have you been keeping tabs on us?"

Janine laughed quietly, "At first, it was simply because we watch all newcomers to our outposts, but after several months..." She shook her head slowly. "There's only one of us who watches you very closely, and it is for the same reason that the other is watching _you_." She turned her gaze to Zack, "It appears that two of my tribe's warriors have come to find you two...most intriguing."

Monica wrinkled her nose. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

Janine simply took another sip of her tea before replying.

"You will have to ask them."

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

"So, tell me," Zack turned to watch Janine carefully as they walked down the hallway together. "What do you think of our species?"

There was barely a whisper of sound as the extinct creature stalked at his side, dense, granite-hard muscles rippling just under her tough green hide. "You are certainly an enigmatic race."

"In what way?"

It was a moment before the cold-blooded hunter could gather the words to reply, and Zack took the time to think back to what Monica had said just before she left:

"_Be careful, Zack..."_

She'd said it in soft, concerned voice that left Zack standing deep in thought at the side of the road as his girlfriend sped off with his truck. She'd be back in about six hours with _Phoenix_.

"On the one hand," Janine's low, rumbling voice brought the blond man back to the present, "Humans can be some of the most intelligent creatures on this planet; your ingenuity is matched only by our own, and your greatest ancestors have built such incredible wonders." A note of sadness entered into the Saurian's gruff tone. "But at the same time, you have such a callous and self-absorbed attitude towards this planet." She bobbed her head from side to side gently. "Do you realize," she fixed her smouldering amber eyes on the human beside her, "If your scientists cannot reach a breakthrough one way or another, the Earth's entire ecosystem will collapse before you have a means to escape to another planet."

"One way or another?"

"Alternatives that will help preserve the planet, or ships capable of carrying more than your primitive space shuttles," Janine breathed a soft purr of laughter. "If the end was to come anytime in the next year, you would be able to save one, maybe two thousand of your people between all the space programs of the world." The powerful, highly evolved raptor managed to convey a wry look quite effectively with her eyes, "It is quite impressive, isn't it?"

Zack laughed, "I'd never really thought about it that way... We've kind of overextended ourselves, haven't we?"

"An understatement if I've ever heard one." Janine turned at the next intersection and led Zack to a closed set of double doors. "Here is where your computer is working." Stepping forward, the reptile pushed through the swinging doors. "I do not know yet what it is constructing, but I suggest you stop it before any of my brethren arrive."

"Would they attack us?" Zack followed his hostess into the automated factory section of the outpost.

"No," she assured him, "The tribes held council the first time you intruded and I made it clear that you were not to be harmed."

Looking around slowly, Zack caught sight of a computer terminal and walked quickly over to it, "Well that's good to know," He reached out and started typing quickly. "Anna? Are you there?"

Janine read the words and hissed quietly, "Anna? It has a name?"

Zack turned back to consider the stunned saurian. "She asked for a name."

"Odd," Janine glanced around at the silent factory floor, "Every workstation was active when I passed by earlier. What is the machine doing?"

**Zack?**

"Well, whatever she's up to, she's still in the system at least." Zack replied to the dinosaur-guardian. "Anna, what have you been doing?"

**I have constructed three of the vehicles I found in the research outpost's database****.**

Zack looked around at the inactive industrial robots. "Where are they?"

**Up on the landing strip****.**

The human turned at a sudden blur of motion to see Janine was already halfway to the machine shop's other door, her clawed feet inexplicably gripping at the smooth concrete without leaving a single mark as she made her exit. "Well, what are you doing now?"

**I am completing the design of a robotic body****.**

"For who?" Zack felt a faint chill trail down his body. _No...it's too soon._

**For me****.**

"Now hold on a moment," Zack's fingers flew across the keys, "Stop what you're doing for a moment and listen to me."

**You will not convince me to cease my construction****.**

Zack sighed at the finality in the silent words. "Why can't I convince you?"

**I want to observe more of the world outside this facility and your office, but in order to do that, I am obligated to reside within your armband and the computer systems of your stealth utility harness****.**

"I understand your desire to see more of the world, but let me see what you've designed so far."

**I cannot. This terminal is poorly equipped and contains no graphics software of any kind. The computers in the command centre are more than adequate for our purposes, however, so I could show you there. There is also an audio interface there****.**

"Sure thing." Zack cleared the screen and turned to head back to the command station at the centre of the facility. _I sure hope I can convince you to stop this, Anna_

Twenty minutes later, Zack was staring in dismay and pity at the diagram on the screen in front of him. _It's a good thing Anna doesn't have a camera in this room to see my reaction_. "This is the body you've designed for yourself?"

The monitor beside the command centre's main display lit up and the computer's reply scrolled across it. **It is not my original design, but I created the first draft and all revisions that followed.**

Zack rolled his eyes and sat back to study the screen. "And is this your ideal robotic form?"

The wireframe diagram that filled the main display was honestly the most ridiculous thing he'd ever seen.

It was, ultimately and quite simply, a computer on wheels. Or treads, rather. The entire contraption rested on four quarter-metre long treads about the width of Zack's foot. On top of the belt treads rested an unattractive, ungraceful box about three-quarters of a metre on each side, which contained all the components currently residing within her PC tower...but more. Anna had designed the black body well enough, with a more than effective balance between airflow, cooling, and simple weight distribution. All told, Anna's body would have capacity for over 20 Petabytes of data, a hundred Gigabytes of memory, and enough processing power and speed to run circles around the speed of light...theoretically.

Rising from the top of the box was a thick, reinforced neck that held up a trio of optical cameras all facing outward in equal arcs. And, protruding from the sides of the box were a pair of primitive three-fingered arms with only a few points of articulation along their length.

All in all, it was quite possibly the most hideous concept he had ever laid eyes on.

And it was a good thing Anna hadn't built it. Yet.

**No**. The fledgling intelligence replied. **It is not the ideal**, Anna herself appeared on a third monitor, thirty centimetres tall and pacing casually, aimlessly across the pale blue and red streaked screen. She paused mid-step and gestured down at herself. **The Ideal body would be a form that resembles this image, but the technology is not available and I was obligated to retool my original design****.** She went back to her slow, leisurely pacing.

Zack frowned and shook his head, "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

**If I am to obtain a mobile body, compromises must be made.**

"Have I done that yet?"

**What are you talking about?**

"_Invention 7_," Zack smirked. "I'm surprised that you could forget."

**I never forget****,** Anna stopped pacing and planted her hands on her hips as she glared unfocused out of the monitor. _**Invention 7**_** has a low priority because it is your creation and not mine**. The girl tilted her head almost 90 degrees to one side, her display of simulated emotion still occasionally over the top. Zack assumed this one was supposed to be curiosity. **What is the purpose in bringing **_**Invention 7**_** into this discussion?**

"Why haven't I tried to build it yet?" Zack sat back and laced his fingers behind his head as he took another look at Anna's body design. "Why have I refused to compromise?"

The girl on the screen continued to pace aimlessly across the bottom edge of the computer screen. **You refused to lower your standards and build it with materials that are currently available.**

"Exactly," he sat up straighter and ran his eyes along the harsh, angular edges of the block construct. "_Invention 7_ is among the five greatest things I've designed—to build it with anything but the materials that _I_ deem acceptable would be like carving a masterpiece out of mashed potatoes."

**I do not follow your logic**. Anna tilted her head again, but only about half as far as before.

"It would be an achievement—an amazing one, really—but honestly, what would be the point? It wouldn't last, and two, three days after, it would just be an insignificant blip in history." Zack stood and began some pacing of his own, "Now, carve the masterpiece from a single block of marble, build a starship out of something indestructible, something truly unique...and you've created something people will remember."

**What does this have to do with me?**

Zack reached out one hand and tapped his fingers on the...monstrosity displayed across the main terminal. "Will you really be satisfied with a body like this, or is this just a body for mobility's sake?"

The younger girl's face grew still and a few seconds passed before she answered. **I suppose it is possibly the motivation to have a body that drives me to sacrifice the Ideal form for this substitute**. The girl gave an accurate approximation of a casual shrug. **I have created a simulation, however, and its results are not supportive of waiting****.**

"What simulation?"

**I created a simulation to predict the technological evolution of the Human Race from data gathered from their past advancements****.** A fourth computer display turned on and showed a readout of something remarkably like a search request form. **I can reconfigure the simulation to accommodate any variable, and the program extrapolates an estimate of when all variables will be met****.** The fields of the search page filled with information and then the display adjacent activated and showed a time-line along the bottom of the screen. An arrow sprang out of the time-line as it began to scroll from right to left and pointed out a year and a few items of information.

**1956 – Basic Artificial Intelligence invented.**

**1960 – First Prosthetic Hand (Russian)**

**2009 – Western Digital (2.0 Terabyte Hard Disk Drive)**

**2018 – Consolidation of Robotics and Prosthetics into a single Field.**

**2020 – Computer Processor speed exceeds 1.0 THz...**

As the time-line began to flow faster and faster, Zack began to understand the logic Anna had employed to create the simulation. It was true that humanity was advancing and reaching its technological milestones at an ever-increasing rate, and some general predictions could be made. It wasn't a very accurate forecasting tool, as unpredictable events and variables—like wars, natural disasters, and economic or political changes—could always play a part in expediting or delaying the advancements, but the very fact that Anna had managed to create this program on her own was quite remarkable.

Now, the _why_ of it, however...Why would she dedicate a considerable amount of processing cycles and resources to designing, compiling, and running such an inefficient program? Why would she want to predict the future at all?

_Of course, since she's made the program anyways..._

"Anna," Zack walked over to the two program displays and studied the information on them, "You said your forecast model could use any variables?"

**Yes, that is right**. A tiny image of the girl appeared on the search form, sitting perched on the field for, "_Variable 3_", which currently said, "P_rosthetic Eye_". She leaned back against the '_P_' and swung her legs slowly, lazily. **What do you think of it?**

"Well," Zack pulled a chair close and sat so he could see both displays comfortably. "Do you think it could give an approximate forecast for _Invention 7_?"

**It will be even less accurate than the prediction for my body, but I can reconfigure it to accept the variables for **_**Invention 7**_**.** Anna jumped off of her perch and flipped gracefully to a lower level of the search form as the information recorded in the fields changed. "_Synthetic Body Tissues_," "R_obotics_," and "P_rosthetic Eye_" became: "P_ropulsion Systems_," "A_rmour-Plating Materials_," and "N_on-Projectile Weaponry_". On down the list the changes went, robotics and nanotechnology variables being removed to make room for industrial, military, and extra-atmospheric. Anna recorded the variable type and used her knowledge of _Invention 7_ to make note of the desired goal. The "A_rmoured Plating_" search thread would conclude once a specified condition of mass-to-protection ratio was met, and the entire forecast model would halt when all the variables had completed. After a minute and a half, Anna had compiled a list of over 150 variables for Zack's masterpiece, spread across five monitors in the control centre.

**Is this satisfactory?**

"Go ahead and run it, Anna." Zack sat down in front of the time-line display and watched it scroll. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the variables on the five other displays were all highlighted in bright red. _Oh, Anna_...he shook his head with a quiet laugh, _Always so dramatic with your visual demos_.

**1903 – First Powered Heavier-than-Air flight (Wright Flyer).**

**1908 – Henry Ford's Model T automobile.**

**1949 – First Jet-Propulsion Airliner.**

**1960 – First working laser (Theodore Maiman).**

**1961 – Human Spaceflight (Vostok 1).**

**1964 – Carbon Dioxide Lasers (Continuous wave lasers).**

**1977 – Space Shuttle (**_**Enterprise**_**, NASA).**

**1982 – Reactive Vehicle Armour.**

**1996 – Thermal Insulation (TUFI, NASA).**

**1996 – Electric Car (Chevrolet EV-1).**

**1997 – Hybrid Electric Vehicle (Toyota Prius).**

**2006 – Electric Double-Layer Capacitors in Vehicles (Capabus – Shanghai).**

**2008 – Advanced Tactical Laser (USAF, Boeing).**

**2012 – Electric Propulsion surpasses Fossil Fuels.**

**2017 – First Commercially-Funded Space Program launches craft.**

**2030 – Fusion-powered Vehicle engine...**

**...**

**2190 – Superluminal Communication...**

Finally, the blur of time-line began to show results as one by one, the variables across all the other screens lost their blue highlights and turned dark grey as the sub-strings of the forecast model each came to a close. The first variable thread to close was, "S_olar Energy Generation & Solar Cell Durability_", followed not long after by "_Communications – Faster-than-Light Transmission_" and a slew of others until there was a brief lull as Anna's model predicted a medium-scale war breaking out shortly after the invention of military laser/light weaponry. Then, at about the midpoint of the imagined war, the string of technological evolution accelerated evolution accelerated and unravelled into the future...

Until it stopped on an approximate date with the rise of faster-than-light travel.

**Circa 2590 AD**, Anna reported dutifully. **In approximately 900 years, Earth's technology should have advanced far enough to allow you to create your **_**Invention 7**_. Anna jumped off her perch on the search form and passed seamlessly from that screen to the one beside it to land nimbly on the time-line and pace along it between 2891 and 2904, her pace slow and casual and her image now taking about a quarter of the screen. **Perhaps you will even have a name for it by then.**

Zack raised his hand and started to reply but froze before he could start. "Did—did you just make a joke?" He let his hand fall as he realized Anna didn't have any cameras to catch his gesturing. "Was that a joke?"

**Never**, she replied, lowering herself down to lounge relaxed against the arrow offshoot at "_2900 AD_". **I do not know the meaning of that word.**

"Liar," Zack chuckled quietly as he considered the information on the screen, "What information do you use to forecast technology like that?"

**First, I create a base starting point for the forecast model using historical data from the database of encyclopedias that I have at my disposal. Second, I establish the current state of technological evolution by drawing from current newspapers, business magazines, government databases, and private servers all over the world. By using my acquired hacking techniques and decryption software, I am able to infiltrate virtually any computer on the planet and create an accurate forecast of the immediate future between 5 and 20 years from the Present. I create this pseudo-forecast from the top secret military and private-firm Research & Development databanks as well as governmental budget information from all around the world****.**

**Once that is done, I extrapolate what advances in technology will be available once current research is exhausted and I run some probability calculations on what directions each country or firm will likely take their research. Robotics, for instance, can branch in several directions from industrial to military or even medical applications.**

Zack nodded slowly, "You're treating it like a tech tree from any video game."

Precisely. Anna stood up and began to pace once again along the time-line. **It bears some resemblance to the tree in **_**Civilization III**_** but, needless to say, it is a good deal more complex.**

"And completely theoretical," Zack added, "But what did the simulation predict for your body?"

**Circa 2450 AD****.**

"Well then," Zack sat down once again in front of the main display with Anna's proposed body. _Checkmate_, "I'm willing to wait as long as it takes for the technology to be available for mine—how about you?"

The extra displays winked off one by one and Anna redrew herself on her original monitor. **You will not live that long, Zack—the oldest human being on record was 122 years old. I may exist long enough to achieve my goal, but you most certainly will not.**

"You never know," Zack relaxed, knowing he could now out-reason his protégé. "A lot can happen between 18 and 122. But if that can't convince you, think about this: '_Good things come to those who wait_'."

**I do not understand how that adage can apply to me****.**

"Don't you?" Zack thought fast. "Patience is often rewarded, Anna. Just think about it, you could build _this_ body today and be able to roll out into the world. Or, you could wait and have your first steps outside of a computer or server be made with actual feet, covered in synthetic tissues, and tactile sensors."

Anna was still and silent for several long seconds before she finally replied, pale blue text scrolling across her "speech" monitor at a slow, letter-by-letter rate:

**I will wait****.**

The main display cleared itself of the blocky and cumbersome form the computer had designed and Anna stepped in from the other display and continued her pacing anew, this time tossing a bright red ball from one hand to the other. **So, would you like to run another simulation?**

"You know—as a matter of fact," Zack sat up a little straighter, "Let's do that. Janine said something earlier and I want to see if you come up with the same answer."

**What is it?** Anna must have heard the growing interest in her creator's voice, because her own eyes brightened a shade or two. **What is the simulation?**

"I want you to run two simulations for me—a race." Zack started running some preliminary numbers in his own head as he spoke. "Run the human race's technological evolution against our resulting impact on the global environment—air, rivers, oceans, forests, everything."

**Is this a test?** Already, a dozen monitors had sparked to life all around the command centre and filled with hundreds of search threads.

"Yes—how good is your processor?" Zack sat back and watched the time-line start scrolling on the main display. "We're going to keep running this simulation until you're sick of it."

**That will never happen****.**

"Really—why?" Zack smiled as Anna even threw a map of the world up on the largest display monitor for good measure. As the time-line scrolled across the huge main display, the world map changed to demonstrate the theoretical result of humanity's never-ending thirst for knowledge and power.

**I'm having too much fun****.**

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

"Please tell me I'm imagining this." Monica stared through_ Phoenix_'s windscreen at the three vehicles parked in front of her, the same position she'd been in ever since she'd landed five minutes earlier.

"I'm afraid I can't," after two minutes of waiting and watching her stare unwaveringly from where he was standing, Zack had come over to see if he could help and had been sitting in the Beechcraft with her ever since.

"No, you're wrong—it can't be real. Tell me it's not real."

It was the fourth time she'd said it.

"It's real," Zack insisted, opening the cabin door and stepping out of the little plane, "What's so bad if it's real—I think it's kind of cool."

"Yeah, you would, King of the Inventors." Monica sighed wearily but climbed down from the safety of her plane and onto the smoothed-out rock surface of the unexpectedly well-lit landing strip carved out of the cliff. "This would be like a dream come true for you." She walked carefully, warily, over to the nearest of the three...machines and reached out one hand to touch the cold steel ventral wing of the ship. "It would be a nightmare for me."

"Why is that?" Zack stepped over to stand beside her as he stared up at the impressive ship. "Is now the time for you to tell me about the dream you had last night?" He glanced over at her and tried to put the wondrous vehicle out of his mind. It was hard.

The ship hung suspended from the ceiling so its lowest point was barely half a metre from the ground. From both the front and the back, it had the general appearance of a thin-lined, massive '_M_', its sides stretched out almost flat with an extra column extending down from the ship's keel a little more than eight metres. At the end of each of the three wings there was a single long, hollowed-out metal pipe that stretched out forward almost two metres. The control cabin sat in the valley of the '_M_'—what looked to be a cockpit for two at one end and a large chunk of...nothing at the other. The newly manufactured ship had not been painted so there was nothing to obstruct the sight of the grey and black patchwork of armoured plating or the wavy pattern of discolouration from the heat and abuse the materials suffered down in the automated machine shop.

It was a Terran _Wraith_ and it bore as much of a resemblance to its video game likeness as the Bunker on the surface.

And it was a pity it would likely never fly.

"But why is there a chunk of it missing?" Monica craned her neck up to look at the vacant area on the ship's butt-end. "Where's the engine?"

"There is no engine."

Monica whipped around to find the same Raptor from earlier that day standing directly behind her. "Whoa!" She looked down at the creature's feet as one hand came up to cover her wildly pumping heart as it did its best impression of the Big Bang. "How can you move so quietly with those feet?"

A medium-high pitched trill punctuated the tall Raptor's answer. "I and my kind have walked this planet for over a hundred thousand generations. Do you really think we would not have learned the value of stealth?" The saurian moved over to the suspended ship and tapped it lightly with two claws. "It is unfortunate. We have been able to bring our grandest dreams to fruition in this...conveyance. But we do not have the means to launch it to the stars."

"What do you mean?" Monica glanced back up at the silent hulk of armoured plating.

"I know," Zack stepped back to admire the almost complete spacecraft. "The technology doesn't exist." At his best friend's curious look, he elaborated, "There's no engine in existence yet to propel a heavier-than-air craft to planetary escape velocity...not any that are smaller than a city bus, anyways."

"That is right." Janine stalked around the hanging ship, considering it from every angle. "Our dreams have taught us many things that are beyond your race, but we still have yet to conceive a means of propulsion."

"Then why did you build it?" The redhead followed carefully after the powerful reptile.

Janine snorted, "We didn't," she whirled quickly around the corner of the hanging wing. "Your companion's...creation built the ship in the machine shops below." She watched with some interest as Monica swung easily through the same manoeuvre. "The Cerebra tribe did design all the machines in the databanks, however."

"Cerebra?" Zack tilted his head to one side as he considered the name, " 'Brain'?"

"Our minds of science and our Psions." Janine explained as she looked from Zack to Monica. "The Cerebrans are the source of a large number of our scholars, philosophers, and scientists."

Zack nodded slowly to himself before tilting his head to one side curiously, "Did you say, 'Psions'?" He considered that news carefully.

"Yes, psychics and Telepaths." Janine cocked her head as she regarded Monica as she stood beside her. "The tribes are each defined by a supernatural aptitude for certain traits that are present in all of us." The raptor chieftain stalked another slow circle around the silent ship while clearly watching Monica with a keen interest as she followed along absently. "All raptors have intelligence, strength, cunning, leadership, or Psionic abilities, but seldom excel in more than perhaps one or two."

Zack chuckled quietly to himself at that, "And I'll bet there are a few exceptions in your history."

"Of course there are," Janine swept around that same corner again, studying the human trailing behind her with an intense stare, "There have been singularly gifted raptors who have perfected themselves in only one gift, just as there have been prodigies who have supernaturally inspired in every aspect of our spirits. I myself am one such."

Zack laughed again. "And quite modest, aren't you?"

Janine snorted derisively, "It has not made my life easy, I assure you."

"Challenges to your leadership?" Monica swung through every movement of the saurian with an off-handed ease, flawlessly.

"Yes," Janine's bright yellow eyes followed the pilot's every motion. "You are a warrior, aren't you?"

"What—me?" Monica stopped following the bipedal reptile and instead swept into a smooth, slow routine of her own, "I'm no warrior. I'm a dancer."

"Really?" Zack perked up at this, "Since when?"

"Since always," the pilot spun a pirouette effortlessly, "It's always been how I relaxed at home...Moose jaw, Ottawa, all across the country, Goose Bay..."

"I don't know," Zack rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "I think I would remember your parents or brothers saying something about dance lessons."

"Dance lessons?" Monica scoffed at the thought, "You don't need lessons to dance."

"And yet," Zack argued, "You teach a dance class every winter at the Fitness Centre."

"Dance classes, right." Monica rolled her eyes, "People pay me five bucks a night to just have a good time dancing to all different types of music."

"Sounds fun," Zack turned back to studying the motionless craft before him. "So, you were hoping to use ships like these as your last resort to leave the planet?"

"Yes," Janine reached up to trail the claws of one hand down along the rough-finished armour panelling of the ship. "We have partial designs for a mass transport ship capable of carrying several hundred raptors each, but we would need craft such as these to escort them." She turned her amber yellow eyes on Zack, trilling that high, amused chirp once again. "I believe you will find our preliminary designs equally familiar to you as our escort craft." She craned her long neck back and chirped the last few words up at the suspended..._Wraith_.

Before either Zack or Monica could reply, the doors of the airstrip's elevator slid open and another raptor stepped out onto the paved strip. This one shared a similar colouring as Janine, but was brighter, more vibrant and youthful, ranging from lemon-yellow at its front and belly to a deep forest green at the back and tail-tip.

As soon as the newcomer spotted the humans and Janine gathered around the ship, it let out a low growl and trotted over to stand close to Zack in what he suspected was supposed to be a threatening manner. Turning to Janine, the newcomer released a string of chirps, trills, and whistles, to which the more dully coloured reptile replied with more of the same.

It continued that way for several moments, Janine and her fellow raptor trading insults or compliments, Zack wasn't really sure.

"Zachary," Janine turned her head abruptly to face Zack, "This is Eric—he has been Project Leader of this facility ever since we took possession of it twenty years ago."

"Twenty years ago?" Monica didn't feel at all threatened by the new face._ It's not like two raptors could kill us any more than one could_. "What about the ten years before that? No one's been able to tell me any more about the people who built this place."

"I've been able to," Zack replied sheepishly, "I just kept getting...side-tracked." He glanced meaningfully up at the ship beside them.

_Yeah, I can understand that_, Monica nodded slowly as she glanced once again at the hanging ship. "So," she turned back to face her long-time friend, "What's the story behind this place?"

Zack coughed and turned completely away from the suspended craft. "I told you it was built in the mid-to-late-seventies by a group of Canadian militiamen who...overreacted just a bit to the ruckus over the separation of Quebec from the rest of the country."

Monica stared disbelievingly at the young man before looking away and giggling quietly. "That's good, Zack—you almost had me," She paused when Zack's warm and pleasant laughter didn't join hers, turning startled sky blue eyes on him. "No, you're not joking, are you?"

Instead of answering, Zack turned back to the ship and continued explaining. "I have no idea where they got the funding, but after that first referendum came, went, and nothing really happened, the members of the militia started deserting and going back to their lives in the other provinces. The last entry I've read was from a...Jason Lewis. He was the last one here and left shortly after his brother-in-law." Zack glanced over at Janine and...Eric. "I haven't read any further, but the next entry in the log wasn't until three years later—in 1986. I'm guessing that's when _you_ had found the place and started to take over the site?"

This time it was Eric who answered. "That is correct," His voice was about two full octaves higher than Janine's, but quiet enough that it wasn't too painful to hear. "The humans constructed the original layout of the facility, and we have found it adequate to our purposes. All the changes we have made have been to infrastructure and technology. We've purchased a vast number of computers and hard drives, as well as upgrading the automated assembly/construction subsystem." The dark green-backed lizard trilled wryly. "It would not have been feasible to construct any of our designs with the primitive machines the humans left behind."

Monica sighed and turned to Zack. "I'm still lost; this place was first built and dug out of the ground over thirty years ago by Canadian National Fundamentalists?"

"Extremists, yes." Zack chuckled at her dumbstruck expression. "Yes, Canada has extremists too."

Monica nodded slowly and declined to comment. "Right after the Referendum, everyone...what—gets bored and goes home?"

"I guess," Zack shrugged.

"Okay," Monica raised an eyebrow, concerned about the sanity of some people. "But that doesn't explain how the bunker looks like something from a video game."

"Actually," the blond man smiled that small, knowing smirk of his, "It kind of does. Janine," he turned to the raptor chieftain, "You said about half your people were out in the world supporting your work here and helping to conceal your presence from the world?"

"That's right," the Raptor's eyes and stance took on a wary look. "We had need for the funding to advance our research and design as well as feed ourselves."

"So," Zack tapped his chin lightly with one finger. "Would there happen to be any of your people working with computers, specifically in gaming?"

Monica stared, "You're kidding."

"Yes, we have at least a dozen raptors employed with Blizzard Entertainment." Eric chuffled quietly, "There are some of my brethren from Cerebra who wished to use our dreams to entertain the imaginations and inspirations of your world, hoping to be able to support us at home while simultaneously observing the human race to see if their research interests would follow our own."

"Free research assistants," Zack nodded his head understandingly, "Very shrewd scheme."

Monica nodded too, "But risky. You could be showing more of your cards than you should be. You might be found out"

"Perhaps," Janine and Eric shared an odd look, "But one cannot catch what one cannot find."

"What?" Monica sighed when she remembered the Raptor's immense abilities, "Right; masters of disguise."

Eric whistled softly. "Our brethren of the Nebula tribe have always been the best of our shape shifters, retaining almost the full scope and potency of the Creators' gifts to us."

Zack turned to Monica again, "So, the question isn't why the bunker looks like something from the video game, but why a structure from the video game looks like the bunker." Zack tilted his head slightly. "Were all the things from Starcraft taken from your dreams?"

Eric bobbed his head slowly, "Virtually all of it. Several of my kin work for the writing department and many others are on the graphics design team."

"And these dreams," Zack was still putting the pieces together, "Does every Raptor have them? They are all the same or similar?"

Janine nodded, "Yes. When we sleep, our unconscious selves wander freely through all space and time, opening every possibility of the future to our eyes."

Eric warbled lowly. Well, as low as his tone was capable at least. "We have all had our own private dreams, but these visions of destiny...they are a frequent occurrence for our kind."

"These dreams are prophetic?" Zack perked up even more at this news.

"Many believe so, though we can prove nothing." Eric circled around the motionless ship curiously. "Your computer is very good. This ship was built perfectly—it is just as we envisioned it."

"You know what this means, Monica?"

"Um, no." Monica swung into another, slower dance routine of hers; something more fluid, something to center her mind. "But I'm guessing you're willing to share."

"Of course," Zack watched as his friend followed her own fluid, contemplative steps, moving smoothly to the rhythm of music only she could hear. "If the Raptors share the same dreams and visions as you and I do, then we are much more closely connected than I thought—both you and I, and the Raptors and us."

Monica froze mid-step as the blond intellectual's words sank into her mind. _Oh goodness_... With so many...people dreaming the same things... Slowly, Monica relaxed her tensed muscles and brought both her feet flat to the ground as she walked toward Zack and smiled slyly at him. "You know...my life was so much easier when you weren't in it."

Zack chuckled quietly, "I'll bet it was pretty boring too."

Monica thought about it for a few moments, "Boring..." she glanced up and met her oldest friend's eyes with her own, "Lonely...stressful and worrisome..." She grinned a sliver of a warm, tired smile. "But, as strange as things are with you around—as crazy as I know things are probably going to get..." She reached out quickly, carefully, and took his hand.

"I'm kind of looking forward to it."

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

"So, what do you think?"

It was Sunday morning and Monica had just left to get her plane back to town. Zack was now walking with Janine down to the Assembly level of the bunker.

"I am over two thousand years old, human." The raptor reached out to trail the claws of her hand along the wall, "I have seen the most unusual things imaginable...but nothing quite compares to this." She craned her neck to one side to regard Zack with an unreadable look, "A human sharing in the dreams of the _Lox-Harugar_? Perhaps it would be best to keep this knowledge between you and I."

Zack chuckled quietly as they walked into the main Assembly room. It was silent as a tomb. "Don't want to stir up the tribes?"

The olive-backed saurian snorted derisively. "I have no desire to shock them with news for which they are not ready. There are already enough of them who think I should have ordered your death as soon as you set foot on our land."

"Well," Zack smiled thinly, "I'm very grateful you didn't."

"Yes," Janine stepped over to the room's only active computer terminal and studied it curiously. "I believe, if given a chance, you could prove to be a powerful ally to the _Lox-Harugar_. You are certainly a much more...intriguing human than I have had the pleasure of meeting in many years." She paused and looked more closely at the terminal's screen. "What is your computer doing now?"

Zack took a moment to take in the primitive graphic diagram being created. "That is one of my newer inventions, and I think it may be of great interest to you and your people." _I thought Anna didn't have any graphing software in the Assembly level..._

"How so?" Janine observed as several more lines were drawn into the diagram. "It is a ring?"

"Oh, it's a little more than that." Zack tilted his head to one side and considered his _Invention 237_. "You know, I didn't realize it before, but finding this place...it opens quite a few possibilities for me and my work."

Janine started when her cold, intense gaze fell upon the scale lying across the top of the graph's display. "I believe I can provide you with whatever assistance or materials you require." She turned an amused, tooth-filled smirk on the young genius. "I will inform the tribes that you are to be given free reign of the facility."

Zack looked at the raptor, shocked. "Whoa, you don't need to go that far. I'd rather you didn't go to so much trouble for me." He chewed lightly on his bottom lip as he considered the reaction he might get for such preferential treatment.

"It is as much for me and my people as it is for you." Janine turned back to face the growing...device on the terminal. "If _Lox-Tenin_ is to be a being with the outward appearance of a human, it would be of great benefit for my brethren to overcome their racial prejudice."

Zack glanced over with a knowing smile, "It sounds as though you're already a little familiar with humans."

Janine trilled softly, shaking her head with silent laughter. "I have had my share of encounters...but enough of that. Our current business is with the present." The intensity of the Raptor's eyes grew even more piercing as she sobered. "My brethren do not know the truth about you—and I will not tell them...but your fate has always been to come to this place and meet my kind, just as it has always been my destiny to welcome you here. The dreams that you and your companion share with our kind are proof of that."

"How can you be so sure of that?"

"I have had my own dreams about my future," Janine turned away from the terminal and focused her gaze directly on Zack. He was shocked at the depth of conviction that he could see in them. "I can feel that you have some pivotal role to play in the destiny of the _Lox-Harugar_. However...whether that means you are our Deliverer—the One for whom we have waited and yearned..." She turned back once again to the device taking shape on the computer terminal.

"Only time will tell."

**Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0Z0**

A/N: Thanks again to everyone who stuck around. As a bonus and a great big thank-you, I want to offer each and every one of you something. In this story (and the ones to come), if you want to know more about a particular subject/character or if there's a back-story or something that you want me to go into, feel free to let me know. Chances are, I'll already have plans to go into that later, but if not, I'll be starting a side-story of sorts once I'm a little farther into this series: "Zx—The Untold Tales". Here's an idea of what the first chapters will be:

The day of Anna's birth/activation.

Zack and Monica's first date/early dating months.

Events from Janine's Past.

Feel free to give me more ideas, everyone!


	7. Urgent

Make sure to copy and paste the petition below to make it your own story... We need this petition going around through everyone who is an active member on FF.

The administrators are, as of June 4th, going to be taking down Fics that have lemons or have extreme violence. Now I don't know about you but I think that's stupid. There are many wonderful fics that only have one or two lemons in them yet the plot itself is awesome! You can't just take down a 100,000+ word fic just because it has a lemon in a chapter that is only 1000 words long. Now I urge you all to read the petition below, sign it, and repost this to your own fics. Hopefully if we make enough noise everything will return to normal. Thank you.

Greetings to the fine folk that moderate our site.

Myself, along with many others, have been writing and posting on your fine site for years now, some of the better examples of up and coming writers out there are now suddenly finding some of the stories we've come to love at risk of being removed without the chance to even rectify our errors.

For some, that means the permanent loss of a story. While I don't have anything that I believe violates your terms of use, there are those out there that are never able to recover a story in its original form, this is something I find to be almost worthy of a legal action, as while we cannot claim ownership of a character, the stories are OURS and simply destroying them is something that is inexcusable.

It's quite easy to simply add an MA rating, additional filters or even a simple requirement for a free membership to read the stories presented here, and would cut down on hateful anonymous reviews and posts at the same time, so I have to question as to why such a thing, in all this time, simply hasn't been added.

If you're worried about falsification of a registration then have an appropriate disclaimer and then there can be no dispute, you took your steps and the PARENTS didn't monitor their children, if that is even your concern. If it is more of a personal view or desire then please at least let people know and give them a chance to remove a story that you and yours find offensive, most people on the site are actually rather cordial when it comes to such requests.

While I cannot say for sure if this letter will even reach those that may be willing to listen, of if it's more akin to a wide spectrum purge in preparation for something bigger, please understand that you are going to be losing a LARGE number of your writers, and thus your income from a lack of readers if there is not some level of action taken to help with this situation.

For those that may agree with this, please feel free to sign on and send this to the support server, maybe we can get some movement on this.

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